
^1^ 





"'^35^*'' ^ 



OLDEN TYRANT 



^ C0mje%-^rama^ 



IN FIVE ACTS. 



BY y< 

CHARLKS STOW. 



^^ 16 1888 v^ ^ 



Entered according to Act of Congres>, in the year 1887, by Charles Stow, in the office of the 
Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C. 



I<r£J^V YORK, 

1887. - 



w 



■ ■••■?i>'- 






J»5vSw?P»F^*^^i3j 



A GOLDEN TYRANT. 



.A. o o :iv^ E ID ^-iD PI -A. im: A., 



IN FIVE ACTS 



CHARLKS STOVv^. 



HARDY STEELE, A millionaire M. C . 

JONATHAN MOKELAND , An uncommonly plain farmer 

FRANK A sns|)icious mucli-songlit after 

HUGO PL.\NTAGANET LA FAYETTE DE TILLE, M. D. The last in the box 

CALEB SNIGGEKWELL A model clerk 

" ZEKE " The Elk Creek Terror 

BOZARKIS BOLIVAR BALL A rural philosopher 

SNIDE WALKER A curb stone broker 

WOOLLY SOUTHDOWN One of the shorn 

SHERIFF SHORTWORK. A successor to G. C , 

HI. MIXER A barteuder 

CLICK A Battery Boy 

ROBINSON 1 

JONES I 

!-.... Four of a kind 
SMITH , I 

BROWN J 

MAlBEL A teacher, with something to learn 

MOLLIE An all-around relative 

EUGENIE HORTENSE VICTORIA TERRA COTTA DE PILLE, 

One of the gilded kind 

AND THE NEIGHBORS All homespun 



A GOLDEN TYRANT. 



ACT I 

SCENE FIRST.— The Lawn in Fkont of Fakmek Moreland's Hoose. 
{Elder Hakdy Steele <i))d Caleb Sniggerwell. ) 

Steele . —I belit-ve tliut bian-tucod, shock-headed young ekid-hopper piirjfosely 
misdirected us, and 1 haveu't a dry thread ou nie, after liouudering through 
ph^ughi'd tiehls aud scaling fences iiiider this infernally hot sun. I wonder 
where the old fool we are alter is to be found. I could alxiost wish he hud 
hung himself with a halter in his corn-ciib, and that you were dangling beside 
him, for looking so cursedly cool and comfortable under the circumstances. 
Conlound you, Cub ! You would give a sand blast a polar chill, and I don't 
believe there is enough moisture in your whole carcass to make one honest 
tear 

Snig.- Am I not all atlame, my dear master, when it comes to serving you, 
and could I not weep from mingled rage and sympathy, to see a lot of seltish, 
soulless wretches take such ungrateful advantage of your too generous patriotism 
and pure desire to serve our beloved country ? Think of it ! Your first election, 
as I have the canceled checks to show, cost you full fifty thousand hard-earned 
doUars. Heaven knows that was a swinging sum to donate to the public good, 
aud yet it seems but a Hea bite to w^hat the bare nomination has cost you this 
time. I have the names, dates and figures to certify that you have already con- 
tributed over one hundred thousand dollars to the cause of retrenchment and 
reform, and that, too, bless your unreckouing liberality, with a much more un- 
certain result to face. Alas ! They bleed you at every pore, good master, and 
the worst of it is that the insatiate scoundrels will not stay bought, once for all; 
while a really honest constitiTent, like farmer Moreland here, whose good-will 
is almost indispensable, can't be bought at any figure, and we, with millions 
in our pockets, so to speak, must play the suppliant to him. Truly, my dear 
m ister, I beseech you to abandon public life, for we are fallen upon shameful 
and ruinously expensive days. 

Ste le. - Think you, drivel-tongued idiot, there is no law against bribery, that 
you croak thus like a carrion crow? Silence! or I'll gag you with the butt end 
of my whip. Some one comes ; so sigger blandly, and to some purpose. 

Snig.— I am all artless smiles and blandishments in j'our behalf, my dear 
master. 

MoLLiE (aii.sie)i, speaking inside the house to Morkland just as ha reaches (he 
tioor.)— Now, uncle, don't forget the molasses, and the raisins, and the nutmeg, 
and the allspice, and the citron, and the currants, and the coffee, and the cl(<thes 
pins, and the bliu^ing, and the starch, and the saltpetre, and the mustard, and 
the sheeting, and the needles, and the codfish. 

Moreland . —All right, Mollie, I hope you ain't forgot nothin'. 



MoLT.TE.— I guess that's about all this time. No, it ain't ! Hold on a minute, 
uncle. Mabel wants tive yards of chintz and some blue ribbon for bedroom cur- 
tains ; and I want some corsets and elastics— but maybe I'd better wait and get 
them myself. 

MoRELAND.— I should saj so. While I'm about it, I guess I'd better send Dan 
down with the hay rack, and have the store hauled up here. But I'll try and 
remember everything ; that is if my head don't bust afo e I get to town. {Sees 
Steele «?j(/ SkiggivRWEli,. ) I nx your pardin' gents. How de do ? Won't you 
walk in ? 

Steele. — No thank you, Moreland, I just dropped over to say that I have 
been renominated to Congress, to thtmk you for your past valuable assistance, 
and to urgently retpiest you to make a little extra effort this campaign. I shall 
most highly appreciate the kindness, and, what is more, remember it. 

SxiG.— You see, my dear Mr. Moreland, it 's going to 1 e a hot fight, and we 
shall need such trusted and veteran leaders as yourself at the front. 

MoRLLAND. - When I want to nm a straight furrow, I don't begin by plowin' 
clear roiind the lot, so I'll be frank and open with you, Mr. Steele. I don't 
mean to be unneighborly, or to hurt your feelin's but I can't conscientiously 
support j'ou agin, an' that's final. 

Steelk. — Why, ]\[oreland, you amaze me. "\\niat have I ever done to you that 
you should change front on me now ? 

Moreland. — Nothin' to me personally, an' on them grounds there's no 
unkindness atween ns. l>ut publicly and politically, and I'm very sorrj' to say it, 
you ve broke faith with me, Mr. Steele, and what's more, I don't like the way 
you've secured the nomination. There's gi-ave stories afloat of the corrupt use 
of money, and a pile of it, too. It's nn^ rule never to take chances on gettin' 
cheated twice. 

Steele.— What do you mean, sir, 1)3^ sncli charges as these? 

Moreland. — Well, if you will force me to speak light out in meetin', I mean 
just tbis, Mr. Steele ; that your record in Congress don't square with either the 
platform, y -ur pledges, or my views. Instead of curbin' monopolies, you have 
nursed them ; instead of reducin' the siirplus, by doin' away with some of the 
indirect war taxes, you insist on pilin' hundreds of millions of gallin' and 
ruinous burdens on the achin' and well nigh broken backs of us farmers. 
Them's briefly my sentiments, and I shall stand by them. 

Snig.— But, my dear Mr. Moreland, consider the interests of the party. 

Moreland.- I consider the interests of the country, and if those of the party 
don't scpiare with them, so much the worse for the party. 

Snig. - liut, ujy dear Mr. Moreland, the idea of you, of all men, playing sore- 
head and turning bolter is simply incredible. I must be suffering from politi- 
cal nightmare. I won't believe it. 

Moreland.- You, and the like of you, may believe and bet on this, too, Caleb 
Sniggerwell, that the older I grow and the more I see, the more independent I 
am inclined to be. I am beginnin' to find out, after votin' the straight ticket 
for over fifty years, that parties don't make men, but men parties, and that the 
creator has about as many natural and reserved rights as the creature. Mighty 
f^;w fools learn from experience, but I've learned that you can't satisfactorily 
celebrate Jackson's victory at New Orleans on castor oil, by merely lablin' the 
bottle "OKI Bourbon." Callin' a jug's tail an ear don't make him hear any 
better, Mr. Sniggerwell. 



3 

Steele. — So, then, Moreland, yon mean that it shall be war between its. If 
it is to be, I swear it sball be war to the knife, and the knife to the hilt; and 
when my turn comes, as come it surely will, you will find that I know how to 
deal with false friends and political hypocrites and traitors. 

Moreland. — Go slow, Mr. Steele. I want peace and good-fellowship, but I 
neither lie nor betray, and the man that charges me with doin' it has got to 
prove himself a better one than I am. So far as threats and hard names goes, 
when it comes to bull-dozin' me, I don't care that much {snapping las fingers) 
for j'-ou or your millions. You can neither buy nor skeer me, Mr. Steele. My 
principles are not for sale I owe you nothin' and I fear j^ou naught. 

Steele. — Men a thousand times stronger than you have quailed before my 
power, and you shall yet crawl on your proud belly and lick my feet for the 
mercy mj'' vengeance shall refuse you . 

Snio.— Pray, good neighbor Moreland, think twice before j'^ou make a mortal 
enemy of mj'^ dear master. He can be very dangerous. Be wise and conciliate 
him, before it is too late. Now do, my dear Mr. Moreland. 

{Enter Ball, intenily rea ling a book of fables. ) 

Steele {threatening Sniggerwell with his riding lehi}^.) — Get out of this, 
you sniveling, fawning cur ! (To Moreland). — And maj^ the devil in good time 
reap what you have sown . 

(Ball reads the following fable :) 

"Clitus and the Blister. 

A prominent alderman of Athens, named Clitus, being suddenlj'^ prostrated 
bj^ an acute attack of lumbago, sent, post haste, for Esculapius. ''J his,' said 
that gr. at court physician, ' is a case requiring heroic treatment. I will send 
by a slave a fly blister, to be applied immediatelj^ to the small of your august 
back.' Calling upon his noble patient at sunset, he was surprised - beyond 
measure — to find him still groaning in the remorseless clutches of the rheuma- 
tic furies. ' By all the fires of Sheol ! ' ejaculated Clitus ; 'that cursed blister 
has not even so much as tickled my epidermis' 'This is very strange,' re- 
marked Esculapius, ' for it was concocted in mine own laboratory by mine own 
hands, and from the best of material.' Let us look into this.' Whereupon 
he gently removed the distinguished sufferer s toga, and discovered that the 
blister had been stuck on the outside of his red flannel undershirt. 'By 
Mercury ! ' exclaimed Esculapius, with that fearless candor for which all 
physicians, in all ages, have ever been so pre-eminently distinguished; 'I 
alone am to blame in this matter, for I had forgotten that you were a con- 
servative.' 

Moral. — When told to keep your shirt on, remember that there are exceptions 
to all general rules." 

Steele.— I'll blister all of you before I get through with you. 

{Exit Steele and Sniggerwell. ) 

Moreland. — Rather a radical moral for a conservative fable, it strikes me, 
Boz? 

Ball,— I will proceed to promulgate — 

Moreland.— No; I haven't time to listen, as I must get to town. Come along, 
and you may read all you please on the way. {Exit Moreland and Ball.) 



( Enter Frank and De Pille . ) 

Frank. — Well, my city -bred son of Galen, is not this glorious? Arching 
skies, babbling brooks, breezy meadows, fragrant woods, pxire air and freedom 
infinite ! 

De Pille. — I reallj' find much in these wild, untutored solitudes to interest 
me. Hitherto my knowledge of the country has been confined to such forty- 
mile-an-hour streaks of it as I could catch flying g'impsts of through the plate - 
glass win'lows of a parlor car If you do not, you ought to know that my rich 
but respectable father, the very late lamented Doctor A. Pille, fell an early victim 
to a forlorn hope council of his professional brethren, when I was yet but a 
toothless cherub; siuce which time my ever elegant and devoted mamma has 
scarcely let me out of her sight, and never into the country, from fear of the 
four-footed Wall strtet gentlemen and other dangerous creatures, rnnniug 
around loos'e, seeking whom the}- might toss up with, hug and devour. 

Frank.— But if your father's name was plain Pill, how comes it that j^ours is 
De Pille? — [spelling hoik hames loihoui pyonoiuiclng Ihem.) 

De Pille.— Easily enough ; a fashionable compounding, as it were, my dear, 
inquisitive boy . Papa was a plain, practical, substantial, hard-working Pill, 
without a particle of sugar-coated nonsense in his composition ; but dear 
mamma was a much more ethereal and eftervescent creature -one of the geotle, 
if not frail, Terra Cottas - a lineal descendant of that fine old blue-blooded 
Dutchujau, Von Dam Peach Blow Terra Cotta, who came ovL-r here to dissem- 
inate the blessings contained in plug tobacco, and to skin the Indians— 
not literally, you know, but by trading with them for furs and things. Between 
oui^c.ves, I suspect dear mamma felt that she had married somewhat beneath 
her, as the lineal representatives of those prime old, A 1, snuff-preserved, 
pioneer Dutchmen generally do. Shortly after papa went on an eternal col- 
lecting tour among the large majority of his patients, mamma moved into a 
more aristocratic neighborhood, and made the Pill more congenial, as it were, 
and easier to swallow, by prefixing a " de " to it. It costs nothing, and so, to 
humor her, I retain it. If a little weak on the question of ancestral crockery, 
she had the good sense to make me begiu experimenting on my fellowraan and 
woman where the paternal Pill left off, and I am an M. D. ; which dt)es not stand 
for ''More Dead," but "More Doctors"— possibly much the same thing, 
though. I gr.iduated at the head of my class, but came very near malung a 
fluke at the last moment, for when old Professor Gamboge asked what I would 
do if callt-d suddenly to prescribe for a man who had taken poison, I replied 
"Give him some more.'" "Sir," retorted the Professor, "that might be well 
enough in practice, but, mark me, you will never get above walking if you thus 
recklessly expose profe->sional secrets." 

Frank. —And you studied so hard there is serious daoger of your going into a 
decline. Ha ! ha ! 

De Pille. — Don't j(>st on so grave a subject. Dear mamma thinks so, and I 
am declining— to work. I should never have managed this little excursion with 
you but for that innocent bit of consumi)tive strategy. 

Fkank.— Well, it will certainly do you good, old fellow, and your respected 
T. C. mamma no harm. But what luck? I heard you shoot but don't see 
any game. 



De Pille. Shortly after you left me, to inspect the contents of the free 
educational institution nestled in yon vale, from my point of vantage on the top 
rail of the fence I descried a beautiful, big black and white squinel, with a 
lovely, bushy tail, trotting along in a ditch I got a good rest and discharged 
both barrels at once, and when I opened my eyes saw him piostiate and ex- 
piring ; but when 1 ran to triumphantly bag him, by the fresh waters of Avon 
Springs, how he did suiell ! I had no idea game would spoil fco (quickly, even 
at this hot season. 

Fr nk. - Ha ! ha ! ha ! Why, mighty son of Kamrod, that was not a squirrel, 
but a MephUm Americana. 

De Pxi.LE —What! a skunk? Good gracious, supposing— but, phew! let us 
change the subject. What did you tintl ? 

Fkank— Congratulate me, my boy, I bagged my game. 

De Pille.— Where? 

Fkank. — In the school-house . 

De Pille.— Game ? In the school-houtse V What arc you talking about? 

Fkank . — The school-mistress . 

Uk Pillic — Shades of LincUey Murray, you did not shoot the teacher? 

Fkank. — Not quite so bad as that, but I ran her to cover though . You re. 
member the young lady we met at the St. Christopher Bellow's Fund Benefit 
Concert, and with whom I was so much struck ? 

De Pille.- I ought to, for you raved about her all night, utterly driving that 
other coy maiden, whom bloody Richard vainly wooed, from my humble, but 
clean couch . 

Fr.\nk, — Now open wide your azure eyes in wonder. The school teacher is 
she, and she lives here with her father, who is an old widower. She is his only 
daughter, and he has, to his great credit be it heralded, given her a liberal 
education. 

De Pille. — And you have gathered all this vast and varied fund of informa- 
tion within the half hour? Frank, you have mistaken your vocation; you 
should have been a piivate divorce detective. You have both the requisite 
ability and cheek. 

Frank. — Thanks for the double compliment, which, however, my modesty 
must decline, as my detective talent was confined to merely opening a tardy 
urchin's mouth with a dime. But, Hugo ! Hugo ! you should have seen her ; 
sitting on her pine-wood dais, the lovely, incarnate queen of learning; poising 
her ferrule like a scepter; even the smudge of desecrating chalk oti the tip of 
her faultless nose, darkening with envy at the eclipsing fairness of her sweet 
face . 

De Pille. —This is decidedly the worst case of fever de mash I have ever 
known; pulse high, imagination flighty, cerebellum abnormally excited. I 
shall have to prescribe both bleeding and opiates. 

Frank. — Now that I have seen her again I am more hopelessly bewitched 
than ever, and will stop at nothing to woo and win her. 

De Pille. — Look you, Frank, no nonsense. For if I thought you the sort of 
chap to go in for harming an innocent girl, much as I like you, I'd shoot you 
first and cut you dead afterward. 

Frank.— De Pille, how dare you call my honor in question? 

De Pille.— It is a family trait, but, my dear fellow, don't get your spinal 
column elevated. I mean no offence; but, remember, there is always danger 



when a young mfln of yoni' station and prospects goes in for a girl in Miss What's- 
her-name's position. It is not an equal showing, you see, and too often one of 
the parties gets the worst of it, and it's not the male biped either, you know. 

Fr\nk. — Pardon me, you arc an out-and-out gentleman and a thoroughly 
reliable pill, under all circumstances, and there's my hand on it. I mean to 
marry Mubel Moreland- that's her name and I want your aid. 

De PiLLE.— But what will that dynamite-loaded, elderly Croesus of an old 
father of yours say to such a match ? Gad ! he'll explode like an anarchist 
bomb, and we shall all be buried in the ruins. 

Frank — It don't seem just the manly and grateful thing to deceive him, but 
this is a matter of more than life and death, in which every one has a right to 
choose for himself, and they say all's fair in love. He must know nothing 
about it until the parson has safely ferried us across the matrimonial rubicon, 
and then we must try and reconcile him to the irrevocable. Besides, you know 
that I have had the eligible daughters of designing old fortune-hunters actually 
flung at my head, until it has bred a perfect horror and dread in me of being 
married for my money only. I want a girl to love me, not my father's money 
bags. We must devise some plan to conceal my true position from Miss More- 
land until I have a fair chance to test the unselfish promptings of her heart. 
What shall it be? What shall it be ? 

De PiLLE.— Let circumstances, backed by my modest but inventive genius, 
decide that, and, if I mistake not, here comes the one to be experimented on 
first. {E}der MoRitiiAND.) Have I the honor of addressing Mr. Moreland? 

Moi:ELANn.-I guess the honor ain't heavy enough to make you round- 
shouldered ; but, all the same, I am Jonathan Moreland, at your service. 

De PiLLE. — Thank you, sir. My name is De Pille, and this is my friend, 
Mr. Hardy. 

MoretjAND. — Pleased to meet you, gents. Have you any particular business 
with me ? 

De Pille. —That is what I particularly desire to explain. I am, sir, a 
physician, whose iron nerve — {aside) I should saj', gall— has succumbed to the 
incessant strain of a large and exacting practice. As, like most of my profession, 
I could not obey the scriptural prescription, "Physician, heal thyself," 
an imposing — [ankle) — very imposing — consultitiou of medical celebrities 
unanimously prescribed and positively ordered absolute rest and plentj'^ of 
Nature's own rural, anti-sewer-gas tonic, as my last and otAy hope, and accom- 
panied by my land friend here to act as dry— (rwi /e) — sometimes very dry — 
nurse, I am here in search of both. Your name, sir, is a prominent and 
honored one in this vicinity, and hearing so much of 3^011 I made bold to ca'l 
and appeal to your goodness to take us in for a short time. {Aside) — that we 
may do the same by you . 

Moreland. -I never took any one in in my life, sir. 

Frank.— Capital ; but we have made bold to come and bore 5^011 by asking 
you to board us. 

Moreland.— I'm several slashins' this side of bein' a wealthy man, but it 
shall never be said that I was the first Moreland to sell his hospitality . 

De Pille.— I honor you for it, sir; but, you see, in this case it's not a 
question of hosi)itality, but rather a matter of business. You have something I 
need badly, and, as an utter stranger, I can't decently accept it M'ithout com- 
pensation. Mow, be at once generous and just, my dear sir, and take us on a 



fair equivalent footing. Wo are abundantly able to pay. Give us the benefit 
of only a week's trial, and, if at the end of that time, everything is not satis- 
factory, we will gratefully withdraw. 

MoRELANu. — It goes agin the grain to turn a suffcrin' fellow-critter from my 
door, but you see, sir, our accommodations ain't exactly suited to you city folks, 
and — 

De Pille. — Now don't say that. We arc willing, like snakes — 

Frank (a.9ttZe.)— Which we very much resemble in this instance. 

De Pille. — To live on air and memory. We'll double iip, too, and you can 
tuck us away in either the garret or the hay loft. 

MoRELAND. — I calculate we can do a little better than that, without bustin' a 
bed cord, or breedin' a famine, and for humanity's sake, if nothin' else, you're 
welcome to stay for a few days, on your own terms, anj^how. But I don't know 
what Mab will say to it. 

Frank . — May I af^k who Mab is ? 

MoRELAND. — My daughter, sir ; she teaches the deestrict school down yonder, 
in Elk Creek Holler. Mabel's her name, as it was that of her sainted mother 
afore her, and if her old dad does say it, she's the smartest, best eddicated, 
brightest and lovingest gal within a hundred horn-blows of this ridge pole. 

Frank. — You are indeed blest, sir, in the love and companionship of such a 
daughter. 

MoRELAND.~If any harm should come to her it would break her foolish old 
father's heart . She and Zeke is all I have to live for now. Zeke's her brother, 
and he's fuller of mischief than a suckin' coon. You couldn't keep him in 
order with a steam-power threshin' machine ; though I dou't believe in trym' to 
make an old dog out of a puj)py, with the big end of a club ; nor that any man 
can get good seed by thrashiu' green oats. It's just coltishness ; nothin' mean 
or vicious about Zeke, and he works like a patent wind-mill , 

{The noise of a fall and scuffle, accompanied by a scream, is heard in the house, and 
Mollie's voice exclaiming, " Yon young orang-outang ! if 1 get my hands on you 
I'll spank some of the deviltry oid of you.'^ Zeke runs out of the house pursued 
by Mollie . ) 

MoRELAND. — Hello ! what's in the corn now? 

Mollie. — He yanked the chair away just as I was going to sit down, and I sat 
right in the buckwheat batter. Look at me ! (*See.9 Frank and De Pille for the 
first time and shrieks .) Strangers! Oh, lord ! {Runs back into the house.) 

MoRiiLAND. — Zeke, you ought to be horsewipped. Fve a good mind to make 
you eat the batter raw . 

Zeke . — Don't dad. It might make me rise too fast in the world . 

MoRELAND. — My hopeful son and heir, gentlemen. Don't you think I ought 
to exhibit him at the next county fair? Why dou't you take off your hat, sir? 

Zeke. — Why don't they take oft' their'n ? I'm afraid of ketchin' cold 

De Pille.— You'd be apt to catch it hot if you were my progeny. 

Zeke. -Well, I'd rather go where it's a durned sight hotter than be sired by a 
dime museum dude, that has to travel under a circus top for fear his ears '11 git 
sunstruck . 

Frank.- Oojt on first base, doctor. 

Zeke. — Can you play ball? 

Frank. — I'm something of an amateur at the game. 



8 

Zeke. — Can you pitch curves, and all that sort of thing ? 

Frank. — Passably well. 

Zeke. — And will 3'ou show ine how ? 

Fjjank . — With pleasure . 

Zeke. — I'm internally yours, as the green frog said to the black-snake, and 
I'll be purliter to you than a drug clerk, and show you where the bit-'gest trout 
hides ; the alliredest bumble bee's nest you ever see ; wild strawberries, bigger'n 
your thumb ; a brood of young partridges; a coon tree, an' ! an' ! we'll have 
more fun than Robinson Crusoe. 

Frank. — Theo, we are to be all-around and all time friends, I take it. 

Zeke. — You bet your breech-loader — aud I'm like dad ; my word's my bot>d. 
That's my strong point, as the horseradish said to the Injun chief. 

(Mabel, heard singing . She enters loithout seting Frauk and De Pille ; runs up to 
her father, throws her arms around his neck and kisses liim.) 

Mabel.— Ob, you dear, darling old Roman ! As Mr. Antony says: "Lend 
me your ears." What do you suppose ? 

Moreland .- Under present circumstances, I might suppose, even agin the 
testimony of your own bright eyes, that you was blind . 

Mabel. — We had a genuine sensation in school this afternoon. A real, real, 
real city gentleman called. He pretended to have lost his way, but acted very 
mui h as some of my young hopefuls do when telling me a tib. He blushed and 
stammered and looked — 

Moreland. — Miss Chatterbox, you don't seem to see these gentlemen. My 
daughter, Mr. Hardy and Mr. DeKill. 

Dk Pille.— Pardon me— De Pille. ' 

Mokeland. — As you are a doctor, you will allow the mistake to be a natural 
one. 

De Pille.— Don't mention it, and I hope none of my patients will. 

Mabel (greatly confused). — Excuse me, gentlemen. 

De Pille.— The spontaneous outburst of a child's affection for a parent is 
not only excusable, but positively charming. 

Frank. — I must plead guilty to being the suspicious intruder Miss Moreland 
refers to {aside to her,) and truth compels me to admit that whatever I had lost, 
it was not my way. 

Mabel. — It may have been your manners. 

Frank. — Not so much of them « ither, but that I have enough left to 
sincerely ajoologize for the intrusion, and to most humbly beg your forgiveness. 

Mabel.— I ought not to grant it, for you upset the whole school, besides 
making me appear perfectly ridiculous just now. 

Frank. — Pardon me, you were simply charming, because natural, affectionate 
and truthful. Surely, that is not ridiculous, but commendable -in fact, sacred, 
in the eyes of a gentleman. 

Mabel. — My duty as a teacher will not admit of my bartering forgiveness for 
idle compliment. I must make it conditional upon your not repeating the 
offence. 

Frank.— I solemnly promise never again to attack the cherry tree of fact with 
the little hatchet of fiction . 

Mabel.— And that you will not visit the school again. 



Frank.— If you only knew what a deep interest I take in educational matter^ 
at prest-nt, you would not iusibt upon the last condition. Why not permit me 
to enroll myself among your most dutiful scholars. Believe me, I have much to 
learn . 

M.\i5iiL. — I gieatly fear, sir, that would be but sending the teacher to school, 
and I slioukl only expose my ignorance, without enlightening yours 

FiiAMK.— Perhaps we boih might learn something well worth the knowing. 

Mabel, . - - An d what, pray ? 

Fkank. — An unwritten language ; the oldest in the world ; yet ever new. 

Mabel . — What is it called ? 

Frank. — As yet, it has no name; at least not one that can be mentioned 
here . 

Mabel. — That's very odd. 

Frank. — No ; it is even, because it requires two to study it. 

Mabejj. — It is certainly very mysterious and, doubtless, metaphysical, andl 
detest metaphysics. 

Fra\k. - On the contrary, it is both the easiest and most natural in the world 
and often learned unconsciously, and to prove it, here endeth the first lesson. 

Mabel. — But I am not aware of having learned anything worth the knowing. 
Why, I don't even know you. 

Frank, --That were worth little indeed ; but as an unknown quantity requires 
a sponsor, my invalid friend there will certify that I am Frank Hardy, very 
much at your service ; a pereon of limited means and less ability, at present 
acting in the humble yet useful capacity of nurse. Your father has kindly 
granted Dr. De Pille and myself permission to remain here for a few daj'S, and 
I venture to hope that we shall merit and obtain the good-will of our fair 
hostess. 

Mabel. —You don't mean to say that you are going to stay here V 

Frank,— Such is the arrangement, and as it is getting late, may I ask your 
permission to look after our traps? {Aside.) Well, I have broken tbe ice with 
a headlong plunge, and now to boldly play Leander and swim and win, or else 
freeze and sink. Come, Doctor. 

De Pille. — No, thanks, I am too utterly fatigued ; and, besides, I want to go 
and see what kind of music, in the name of the weird and wild Wagner, that 
fellow is trying to grind out over in youder barn. {Exit Frank and De Pille. ) 

Zeke. — 1 11 be kicked to death by tom-cats if he don't take our fannin' mill 
for a hand organ. What a heap of seasonin' it will take to get the sap out of 
him I'm his tigricultural reports, vol. the one, from this out, lam, and he 
won't have to spit on his thumb to turn the leaves, nuther. {Exit Zeke. ) 

Mabel. — I never heard of such a thing. I feel like a wrong answer in vulgar 
fractions. Father, is it possible that you have invited this debilitated Pille and 
his-- his, cool companion to visit usV 

Moreland. — Now, Mab, don t shy and kick you're hind shoes over the smoke 
house till I explain a bit. I didn't invite 'em ; they just, somehow, invited 
themselves. One of 'em, as you see, is oft his fodder like, and begged so 
uncommon perlitely that I hadn't the heart to turn 'em away. They'll pay well 
too, for what they get -tho' I didn't ask it— aad a little ready cash, my wild rose, 
will come right handy just now. 



10 

Mapel. — But, father, the idea of turniDg the place into a boarding house for 
fastidious city gentleujen, and at a moment's notice, too. Eesides, you know 
nothing about them. They muy be dangerous and dishonest characters. 

MoKl■:LA^D. - They don't look it, and Dame Natur' don't make many mistakes 
in takin' photographs. Don't you worry, Mab, for if they can find anything 
around here worth stealin', we'll make 'tm divide, and thank 'em to boot. Be- 
sides, my girl, I have passed ut}' word, and that settles it. If they can't 
stomach our plain ways and fare, as verj' like thoy can't, thej' can move out, 
without givin' warniu'. If I've made a mistake, I'm sorry for it, on your 
account, but it is on the right side of human natur', Mab, and I'd rather be a 
fool with a he at, once in a whiie, thail a hog forever, without one. 

Mabel. -And I would not havfe you anything but just the dear, noble, big- 
hearted dad that you are {Jcisses him.) I was more surprised than vexed. So 
never mind my nonsense ; we will do the best we can, and if our guests can 
stand our style of living, with Zeke thrown in, they are worthy to be canonized 
as heroic domestic martyrs. But, dear father, this adds another to your maoy 
cares, and you already have altogether too much to look after. 

MoRELAND .— Pshaw, Mab, I'm as lough as Nebukedneezer, after he was turned 
out to grass, and good for these many j^ears. Besides you know I must put in 
some big licks this season, and pay for that forty acre wood lot I bought of 
Gene Smith. 

Mabel . — But, father, why do you work liike a galley slave from morning till 
night, just to get more and more land, when you have more now than you can 
manage properly ? 

MoRELAND. — My honpj'suckle, broad acres is the farmer's patent of nobility. 
The more lie has of 'em the higher his standin' and that of those belongin* to 
him, and when the good angel blows his evenin' horn for me to quit work, I 
mean to leave you at the top of the heap, Mab, where j'ou belong, and where I've 
eddicated you to shine like a dew drop. 

Mabel. — Position and riches, obtained at the saciitice of your health and 
comfort, would bring me nothing but unhappiness and regret. We are very 
happy as we are, r.nd for my sake, as well as your own, don't ambitiously 
attempt to carry a burden beyond j-our strength. You are no loKigei' a young 
man and should be prudent. 

MoREL.\ND. Tut ! tut ! little one. Stick to your three it's, and don't worrj- 
your knowledge box with things women cau't understand. I'll boss outside 
matters, while you manage in-doors. So come along and look aftrr the supj^er, 
while MoUie does the milkin'. It's gettin' late, and I'm hungrier than a party 
patriot. {Mxii Moreland <nid Mabel.) 

{Enter Mollie w'dh. milk pail. She sings (he following song :) 

" HE TICKLED MY N08E. 
I. 
My Johnny he's studying theology no\v. 

And he dresses himself all in black ; 
But to make a good orthodox preacher, I fear 
There's something my Johnny do lack. 
You won't tell ? Hope to die ? 
I'm so timid and shy, 
And my Johnny's so awfully rash ; 



11 

Now what do yon siijipose ? 

Why, he tickled my nose, 

And he tickled it with his mustache. 

Yes, indeed, he's so dreadfully rash ; 

For he tickled my nose. 

Yes. he tickled my nose — 

And he tickled it with his mustache . 

II. 

My Johnny he asked me a walking to go, 

And he wore a white necktie so prim, 
And a pair of most orderly drab-colored gloves, 
And a hat with a clerical brim . 

I was proud, I declare, 

0£ his sanctified air. 

More than if he'd a million in cash ; 

Then hoio could I sujopose 

That he'd tickle m,y nose, 

And do it, too, with his mustache ? 

But you see I was awfully rash, 

For to ever suppose 

I could trust my dear nose, 

In company with a mustache. 

III. 

( Enter De Pille . ) 
Fair sisters, these Johnnies are all just alike, 
Whate'er may be the stjde of their clothes ; 
And I warn you to keep every one at arm's length, 
Or they'll certainly tickle your nose. 
You may tbink they won't try, 
Ah, but won't they, oh, my ! 
When even my Johnny's so brash? 
So, until they proposes, 
Look out for your noses. 
Or they'll tickle them with their mustache. 
And they'll do it, too, just like a flash ; 
Don't you ever suppose 
That you can trust j^our nose. 
In the neighborhood of a mustache. 
De Pil,le {(ipplandhi(i). — Bravo, by Jove ! 

MoLLiE {afler staring at him in surprise) . — What is it? As Zeke says, "What 
lots of shots we have when things is out of season." 

De PiLiiE. — Mademoiselle, waving the conventional formality of an introduc- 
tion, may I be permitted to respectfully inquire what j'ou are staring at. 
MoLLiE. — Give it up. Next! 

De Pille.— Too abstruse for your comprehension, eh? Then I will present 
an easier one. Coy damsel, what may your patronymic be? 
MoLLiE. — My pat-]iat-what? I'm no Irishman. 

De Pille. — Another bull. But as the bard of Avon says: " To't again." 
I mean, f<air lacteal i)ersuader of the bovine species, for such I take you to be 
what is your name ? 



12 

MoLLiE — Mary Ann Goggins. Pretty, aint it? 

De PiLiLE --The very creme de l<i crime ot names, and butterfully placed. 

MoLLiE.- Oh, uiy ! And what might your pat-pat-pat-your mimic be? What 
does mamma call her nice, soft, 'ittle tootsy-wootsy f 

DePille. — Sportive wood nymph, I am simply Hugo Plantaganet La Fayette 
DePille, M. D. 

MoLLiE. — Pilgrim's Progress ! Have I got to take them all at once ? 

De Pille.— Rapacious maiden, it will be time enough to take medicine of my 
kind, when it is prescribed for you by a regular practicing physician, in good 
btaDdiug. 

MoLLiE. — I'd have to be awfully sick. 

De Pille. — Perchance, you may be. 

MoLLiE. — When I am, I will be sure to send for De Pille. 

De Pille. — I will be there. 

MoLLiE. — W^hat are you hanging around here for, anyway? 

De PiLLii. — Inquisitive innocent, I am bearcbmg among these sequestered 
hills and dales for the fabled fountain of health. Behold in me a worthj^ object 
of feminine compassion. Disrobed of professional phraseology, and admin- 
istered straight, as it were, the fact is, I a,m not well. 

MoLLiE. — You look weak. Some chronic trouble of the head, I take it. 

De Pille. — Alas, far worse than that ; pleura pneumonia of the gastric lobe. 

MoLLiE. — That's perfectly awful. Have you ever tried goose grease and 
molasses ? 

De Pille. — I have tried everything except matrimony and a law suit, aud 
h«vc resolved to throw ph^'sic to the pugs. But, "where are you going my 
prttty maid." 

MoLLiE. — " I'm going a milking, sir, she said." 

De Pjlle. — " Maj' I go with you my pretty maid?" 

MoLLiE. — You can't milk. 

De Pille. — But I can do the next thing to it. 

MoLLiE — W^hat's that ? 

De Pille —Pump. 

MoLLiE. — What on earth has pumping to do with milking? 

De Pille.— My unsophisticated rural Phylllis, you may chalk it down as an 
unstrained truth, that if you lived in the city you would speedily learn that 
the pump is milked much oftener tban the cow is pumped. But, far be it from 
me to water your stock of guileless confidence, for "where ignorance is bliss, 
'tis foil}' to " skim vS its ingenuous cream with wisdom's spoon. 

MoLLiE. — W^ell, I can't stop hire any longer, spooniug with a milk-sop. 

De Pille. —After such a ^op to Cerberus as that, I think you might at least 
let me go with you and learn how the genuine article is produced. 

MoLLiE. — We don't generally let the calves in until we're through milking. 
( GoiiKf. ) Co Boss ! Co Boss ! {Sound of cow-bells hennl.) 

De Pille.— This country doth make cow-herds of us all ! Come veal, or woe, 
I'll follow you ! 

MoLLiE.— I wasn't calling you, but you may come, if you'll promise to keep 
your nose out of the pail . Co Boss ! Co Boss ! 

CURTAIN. 



13 



ACT 11. 

SCENE FIRST.— Hardy Steele's Office. 
(Caleb Sniggeuwell at a desk, lookimj over papers.) 

Snig. — AVbat delightful reading these returns and this statement will furnish, 
my dear master, when they afford a merely disinterested person, like me, snch 
a world of satisfaction. His defeat seems more than probable, and I have 
carefully prepared this synopsis for his special edification. How I long to see 
him feast on it, Avith the spicy sauce of helpless rage and biting disappointment 
added. How bis proud stomach will retch and sicken over it. More than a 
hundred thousand dollars invested in gill and wormwood. Won't I hold the 
sweet cup to his fevered lips, until he drinks it to the very dregs ! It seems too 
good to be true. All but three districts have reported. Why don't they come 
iu? Good, Mr. Devil, whom ray dear master has so long and faithfully served, 
so manipulate them as to bring me the only happiness I have ever known, and 
I, too, swear to worship you. If no news should mean good news for him! 
But, no ! no ! I can't be mistaken. Sweet hope seems to whisper to my heart 
with a prophetic voice. My heart? Is there such a uselsss article labeled, 
Caleb Sniggerwell, owner ? Barely a week ago I could have sworn no ; and, 
yet, what is it that so stirs and throbs within me at sight of Mabel Moreland's 
lovely face ? What seethes in my breast, as though filled with tiger's blood, 
wherever I see young master Frank with her? What forced me to invent a 
dozen paltry pretexts for calling at her school ? Why do I swear to tear them 
apart, and have her for my own? Is it hate for him, or love of her' Love ! no 
one ever loved me. Why should I love any one? But, in spite of mj'self, I 
am not myself. What will it lead to ? What's to be done? Well, at least, I'll 
use your fatDer as a pair of shears, to clip your amorous wings with, my dear 
young master. {Enter Haedy Steele.) (^s/de). — He has aged ten years since 
yesterday. What ecstacy to see him on the rack, Ambition's eagles clutching 
at his vitals ! I'd like to twist it till his heartstrings crack. 

Steele. - If I have faded I'll make this earth a hell f )r all of them. I have 
sown my gold broadcast, i»nd those that would have me reap a crop of thorns 
therefrom shall gather them for me, b.irebanded, untd their gory fingers are 
torn to ribbons. 1 will make them pay ricb usury of ruin for what they make 
me sufter. 'Sdeath ! I'd rather use a million for a match than have them leer- 
iugly print fidlure on my forehead with their smutty fingers. But he laughs 
best who laughs last, and let them look to it, for I will live to chuckle when 
they howl. Cub ! Cub, I say ! 

Snig. — I am all attention, sir. 

Steele. —Use more of its oil to grease your lazy joints. What of the market ? 

Snig.— There is a desperate effort to cover on consolidated Terra del Fuego. 
The very devil is to pay, sir. 

Steele.— Then buy ten, twenty thousand shares at once, at any price, and 
let the shorts help pay him. We'll cater to their hungry stomachs by making 
that stock shorter than Christmas pic crust Why, (Jub, good news makes your 
rusty yelp almost muir>ical this morning. 



14 

Sntg. {aside.)— TW fry the effect of a woeful snarl, or two— I am very sorry, 
my dear master, to strike a discord under such harmonious circumstance s, but I 
fear these returns and figures will not please you so well. 

Steelk (Zo'fc.9 rt/ p^/pers Sniggerweli. /koh/.s h mi) — I've seen all these before. 

Snig.— Not (pite. 

Steele.— What's this? Wattsbur*^ pre'inct 222 majority! Why, man, this 
elects me, beyond question ; let the three unreported districts go as they m>y. 
I'll make your fortune. Cub, for bringing me siTch news. A glorious victory, 
snatched from the very jaws of humiliating defeat. Now, it's my turn to 
laugh ! 

Snig. - My dear master, I'd rather bite my tongue off than have to tell it, but 
there is an error in this table, which, most unfortunately, I forgot to rectifj^ 
Just as you came in, Foxy Fall wired from Wattsburg that your majority there 
was only 22 insteid < f 222. You upset me so, by calling me so sharply, just as 
I was about to make the correction, that you knocked the figures clean out of 
my head. I'm mortal sorry, sir, both for my blunder and your great disappoint- 
ment. 

Stiet.e.— A mistake? A mistake ? lam more than half inclined to believe 
you have purposely played a trick on me. If I was sure of it, I'd slit your ugly 
throat, you false-tongued hound ! 

Snig.— That were a poor reward, good master, to bestow upon one, who for 
these manj' long years has plaj^ed the faithful watch dog. Be more j'ourself, I 
beg of you, sir; all is not lost, and we maj' triumph j^et. 

{Elder Telegraph Ckrk, "Click.") 

Click. — The returns from Fairview and Lockport, sir. 

Steele. —Quick ! Give tbem to me. {Beads.) Fairview: McKay, 134; 
Steele, 19G. Lockport : Steele, 300 ; McKaj% 253. 

Snig.- That's very good, yon see, sir. Let me nee- {fiijvres) — you are still 
76 ahead, with but one more district to hear from — Elk Creek — and I don't 
believe that, even Jonathan More'and could change enough votes there to defeat 
you. Courage, good master ! although I must confess that the strange delay 
in hearing from there is enough to make one just a trifle nervous. 

Steele. — Shut your mouth, will you? and then j^ou won't blow hot and cold 
in the same breath. 

Snig. {(isidf) . - Perhaps I shall yet blow hot enough to roast you, and cold 
enough to freeze your marrow, my dear master. We shall see what we shall see. 

Steele .— Hark you ! You have a trick of mumbling that I don't like. Spit 
out what little j^'U have to say that's worth saying, and be done with it. Where 
is my son? I have not seen him for over a week*. 

Snig. — While I was making the secret canvass, as j'ou instructed, I frequently 
noticed Mr. Frank at Morelaiid's house, and also saw him strolling with our 
conscientious friend's fair daughter on several occasions. Most likely there's 
nothing in it, but when it comes to a pretty girl, we older heads know that 
young men are proverbially susceptible and rash, and Mr Frank is unusually 
impulsive; even headstrong a bit, at times. An idle flirtation, probably, not 
worth noticing ; though Mabel Moreland is undeniably a lovely creature, and 
Mr. Frank would be a fine catch. 

Steele. — Would he, forsooth! Who ever marries him without vay consent 
will catch a pauper. Although he is my only child, and I am devoting my life 



15 

to make him a financial colossus— rich, great, feared and courted— I would 
rather see him struck dead at my feet than that girl's husband ; I swear it. I 
will look into this aflfair myself. Let him not forget that he is my son, lest I 
forgot that I am his father. 

Snig. — "If thou wouldst have a servant with whom thou art well pleased, 
serve thyself," says poor Richard, and in so delicate a matter as this the advice 
is good; and yet in a case so nearly concerning your honor and haj^piness, and 
that of my dear young friend —if I may be permitted to call him so— I trust, 
sir, that yon will not hesitate to command my liumble services. 

Steele. — It I need you, I will use you. Meantime keep an eye on both 
of them . (Steele steps into the, adjoining room. ) 

Snig. — An eye? Yes, sir. {Aside.) "An ej'e for an eye, and a tooth for a 
tooth . " I'll be as watchful as a lynx's cub . 

{Enter Frank.) 

Frank . — Hello, Cub ! How sings the ticker to-day ? Are you, for the nonce, 
a bear's cub in its little deij, or a golden calf in the bull's manger? Now don't 
growl at that as only a stock-y&xA joke. 

Snig. — My dear young friend, how it cheers one up to see you ! You are as 
full of high spirits as a pipe of Hollands, and as buoyant as a balloon. 

Frank. — And as full of gas — eh, Cub? 

Snig. — If you are, it is laughing gas, Mr. Frank, and most welcome, for it's 
uncommonly gloomy in Bullion Burrow just now. Your good father is much 
exercised over the probable result of the election , 

Frank. — I am a paradoxical son, and, for his own success, hope that he may 
be defeated. He is staggering under an ever-growing mountain of care already. 
Politics, Cub, is like a country parson's pocket— there's nothing in it. 

Snig. —I am afraid your father's check-book would not agree with you 

{Enter Steele.) 

Frank. — Good morning, sir. 

Steele. — It is so long, sir, since I have had the pleasure of seeing you, that I 
had begun to fear you might not be able to recognize me. Where have you 
been, sir? 

Frank. — Visiting with my friend, De Pille. 

Steele . — I repeat — Where, sir ? 

Frank. — In the country, near by. 

Steele.— I will supply, sir, the exact information that I do not wonder j^ou 
are so reluctant to give. Dangling, like a love-lorn ass, at the apron strings of 
Moreland's scheming daughter. Mark me, sir, if your attentions to such a low- 
bred coui.try jade are honorable, they must cease at once, and forever. If other- 
wise, I don't care so much . 

Frank . — Father, would you have me dishonor both your name and my own? 

Steele.— Boy, I would cover Jonathan Moreland, and all who bear his name, 
with infamy. I'd have them wallow, shelterless and naked, in slander's oflfal, 
I'd have them driven wanton by wolfish hunger, and hounded to self murder by 
every loathsome pestilence. May my tongue be paralyzed, ere it consents to 
mingling blood with them. 

Frank.— But, father, what has Mr. Moreland done to you, that you should 
hate him so ? 



16 

Steele. — If you do not take interest enough in my affairs to know, I shall 
not condescend to explain. It is not for you to question, bat to unhesitatingly 
obey, when I command. I will enlighten you to this extent— that poorhuuse 
bride's are not in favor here. I have a perfect treasure of a wife in view for you. 
She is worth a million, sir, and I will add another to it on your wedding day. 

Fbank. — You are very kind and generous, sir, but I would much prefer to 
marry for love, on a single million, or even without it. 

Steele.— You are a romantic booby and not tit to judge. Love, sir, isbut a 
fashionable lie ; a leech's head behind a cupid's mask. It is but a genteel term 
for thrifty speculation . The goddess Money, with her locks of gold, is some- 
thing real, to clasp and fondle — no airy phantom, born of sickly sighs, but solid, 
tangible, fruitful and true, 

Fbank. — Has she a heart? 

Steele. — Yes, a minted one; and that's what's needed in tJiese matter-of- 
fact days . 

Fb.\nk.— If you will pardon — 

Steele.— I'll pardon everything except disobedience. You know my wishes, 
and so let the matter drop. I have other business to attend to. {A knock is heard 
(xt the door.) Come in . 

(Enter Woolly Southdown.) 

South.— Good morning, Mr. Steele, pray, can I have a word with you in 
private ? 

Sn;iii>E.-^If it is a business matter, we are in private ; what do you want? 

Soi jH. — It's about the Terra del Fuego stock, sir. 

SxEEi.t: . — You haven't burnt your fingers in that fire ? 

South. — Alas, I have sir, ai^d for a thousand dollars, and what makes it 
worse, sir, is that part of the money was not mine. 

Snig (a.vfde. )— Another good man en route for Canada. What is this sad 
world coming to? 

Steele.— Temporarily borrowed from your employer, without his knowledge, 
I presume ? 

Snig. iy>f<ide). — Mr. Woolly Southdown, your career promises to be as 
crooked as a ram's horn . 

South. — Not quite so bad as that, sir, but bad enough. It was my 
poor old mother's, and I was so sure of success that I persuaded her to risk it. 
She is left penniless by its loss. 

SiEfcLE. — I don't see how that concerns me, sir. 

South.— It does not, bir ; but as you control the stock, I thought you 
might be induced to take pity on us and let us out of it. We will both be 
grateful unto our dying day for your goodness, Mr. Steele. 

Steele. — What ! Put my hand in my pocket and make you a present of a 
thousand dollars? AVell, that proposition is cool enough for the dog-days. 

South. - 1 swear most solemnly, sir, never to speculate again if you will 
be merciful to us, just this once. 

Steele.— Oh, .\ es, you would ; and I am not going to simj^ly encourage your 
thirst for gambling. 

South. — Why, Mr. Steele, I have only done the same as you. 

Steele.— Not at all, sir. Y'ou are a gambler ; I am a speculator. You can't 
afford to lose, and do ; I can, and don't. There's the difference between us. 



17 

and it is a very marked one, too. I trust that you will be wise enough to profit 
by this lesson. If you do, it uiay turn out a blessing in disguise . Good day, sir- 

SotJTH. {ijointj .)—Heii\eu will yet punish you for your hurd-heartedness, Mr. 
Steele. 

SrKELE. —Possibly ; but I'm not dealing in futures in that market, at present. 

{Exit Southdown. ) 

Frank.- (axu/f /o SsiGGiiRWKL,!..) -I made just a thousand on a flyer yester- 
day, and I'll temper the wind to this poor, shorn lamb with it. 

Snjg.- Bless you, Mr Frank ! You ate an angel in a plug hat. {Exit Frank.) 
And they'll pluck you 'till you won't have a pin-feather left. 

{Enter Click with, a telegram, which he hands to SrEELE. ) 

Steele (reails . )— " Elk (reek's precinct gives McKay 89 majority . You have 
Jonathan Moreland to thank for this" — damnation ! 

Snig. (aside). — What an unlucky number 13 of a minority is. 



SCENE Sfc^COND— An Opening in the Woods, on the Bank of a Stream. 

{Elder 1-)e PiLiiE a)id Zeke wiUifish poles • Dii PiLLb; also carnjiwj a big 
turtle by the tail, and Zeke an oyster can, filled wdh bait. ) 

Zeke — What are you lugging that thing around for, Doc. ? 

De PiLLE. — I shall pickle him in alcohol, my son, and present him to the 
Piscat trial Club, of which I am an honorary member, as a specimen of my skill 
and daring. 

ZEKii. — I'll throw in a young muskrat, a tree toad aud a chipmonk, and then 
the museum will be complete. (De Pille produces a bottle.) What's in that 
bottle, Doc, forty-rod? 

De Pille. — No; chloroform. 

Zeke . — Chloroform ! What's it for ? 

De Pille. — Ezekiel, I am going to chloroform these worms, to keep them 
from wriggling so persistently when impaled on the barbed hook. Ugh ! They 
make me feel as though I was handling a lot of maccaroni, boiled in delirium 
tremems. It is a grand practical idea, Zeke, and I think I will have it copy- 
righted for the benefit of the Club. 

Zeke. — Why not bait with Scotch snutf, and let the fish sneeze themselves to 
death ? 

De Pille. — A'/^er would do. 

{Enter Ball reading, and in Ids abstraction runs against a tree, and drops his book. 

Ball. —I beg your pardon {picks up his book and reads the following fable :) 

"One True Fish Story. 

In the days of King Piscator, when fish narratives were, as yet, unspawned, 
and tljc finny denizens of the deep were not surrejjtitiously caught, for the 
second time, with tbe bait of filthy lucre, and grew not many cubits in length 
and shekels in weight in transit trom the boathouso to the bar-room ; there was 
a crafty i^'i/i-lauder, named Jona'.i, who had vainly angled for the space of three 
score aud seven years, with tlic most approved tackle and the most alluring 
kinds of bait, for the biggest whale ever seen previous, during, or subsequent 
to Sinbad, the sailor's reign . Now, it came to pass, that one day the wary 



18 

Patriarch of the Tribe of Sperm came up to spout at a convention of the Anti- 
Growler Marines, whereupon Jonah artfully concealed himself in the bowels of 
an iron-bound-barrel, conspicuously labeled S. O. P. -Sound on Prohibition - 
and rolled himself headlong into the sea. The whale, spying the cask, and 
deciphering the inscription thereon, closed his windward eye in festive greeting, 
and saying softly unto himself, ' Here's to you,' swallowed the same. Now, lo 
and behold, Jonali, upon finding that he had thus tumbled to the inner workings 
of the Standard Oil Company, forthwith produced a copy of the Inter-State 
Commerce Bill and, biting up his voice, proceeded to learnedly expound tbe 
same; at which, it came to pass that the whale began to blubber as one without 
hope, and at length ran furiously ashore near Nineveh, and straightway threw 
u^) both Jonah and the sponge. 

Moral.— Iheie is more than one way to catch a sucker or to skin a cat-fish." 

Zeke.- Say. there's Boz ! and, as usual, walkin' on top of the trees in fable 
land. Let's have some fun with him. {Lookwg for the turtle.) Where is that 
native American ironclad gone? {Fuxh it.) Come here, you boardin'-house 
cruller. (^Fastens it to the tdil of Ball's coat. ) 

(Ball starts to read the following fable) : 

" The Haud-Shell Baptist and the Sevt of Learning," 

Feds the turtle hit against him, looks around, disco' ers it, and deliberately taking off 
his coat, lays it doron. The turtle drags it off. 

Ball. — If you need the girmentmore than I do, swallow it, and welcome 
Life's too short to quarrel. ( Returns to his book. ) 

De Pille. — Not much game to be got out of snch pa* lent philosophy as that. 

ZiiKE, — He's forgot by this tiuie that he ever had a coat. But let's get to 
work. There's some Innkers in the deep hole under tbein roots. {They fish.) 
Zeke hits the hutt ofDu PiLLji'spoZe, making hi'ii think he has a bite) 

De Pille. -That was a glorious nibble. Must have been a big trout. (Zeke 
strikes his pole again.) There's another, and, coafound it, there's mj' line 
caught, too {Gets up to loosi^n it and dis overs a big hornd's nest.) By Jove, 
what a big nest. It beats anything I ever heard or read of. What species of 
birds build them, Zeke ? 

Zeke. — Birds with tearin' hot tails, doctor. 

De Pille. — There may be one in it now. {Pokes the nest with the end of his fish 
pole . ) 

Zeke. — If you keep on knockin', several of 'em will perlitely answer, and, j^ou 
bet, they won't wait for no introduction, nuther. {Moves away.) I want 'em to 
distinctly understand I'm no New Year's caller ; even if they would give a 
feller time to leave his card, which they won't. 

{A swann of homes attack De Pillr.) 

De Pille. — What the devil ! {Howls and dances about, striking <d the hornets with 
his liat.) Fire! Murder! Help! {Finally phinges head-first in the ceek and dis- 
appears. ) 

ZtKE {going to the bank and looking d >wn the stnrnn.) -- This beats sheep 
washing all hollow. Golly ! he cleared that snag like a two-year-old. There 
he goes, ker-soiise, into the devil's wash bowl ! Tally-ho ! and away we go 
agin ! Keej) it up, Doc, and you can saj^ that you've took the longest and 



19 

hottest bath on record! {A hornet slings him.) Holy whoop! In time of 

peace prepare for war ! Thrashes about, strikts his heel against a stub, and falls 

backward into the creek ) 

Ball —Commencing to read a fable — " The Hornet and the Tramp "—{Is stung 

by a hornet) — Shades of Esop ! 

(Exit Ball, beating the air with his book.) 

Zeke {cdmbing up the bank:).— There ain't no fun goin' in swimmin' alone. 
I wonder where the Doctor is? {Enter De Tille, with a frightfully swollen face.) 
Well, tliey have knocked you out ! Was you stung niich? 

De Pille. —Knocked me out? Stung much ? I am nothing but a unanimous, 
animate pin -cushion, stuck full of red-hot needles. For mercy's sake find me a 
lake of arnica and a mountain of saleratus . Come away, while I can see to 
navigate, and let us get home, before I swell up so that I can't get into the 
house. {Exit De Pille and Zeke. ) 

( Twilight begins to fall. Erder ISteele . ) 

Stiele -Playing the spy is not in my line, but I must and will know posi- 
tively whether my son is acting the prodigal and ingrate with me, by disregard- 
ing my wishes and insulting my authority, beyond all endurance and forgiveness. 
What keeps Cub so long? Curse him, he moves like a sore footed sloth. Will 
he never come? (JS'/.^er Sniggerwell. ) So, last of the laggards, night has not 
quite overtaken you. Well, what news? What news? I say. 

Snig.— Hush ! not so loud, sir. Pve seen them, and they're coming this way; so 
please step aside and judge for yourself how well and truly I have advised you. 
But, my dear master, let me beseech you to be calm and patient — undue violence 
might but make Mr. Frank more willful . 

Steele —Say you so. If he does not bend like a green wythe, I will break 
him like a dry reed . ( Exit Steele. ) 

Snig.^Now, my dear young master, whisper your love tale in a doting 
father's ear. Mine shull be told in a different fashion, later on. {Exit Snigger- 
well. ) 

{Enter MpiB^jj, and Frank.) 

Frank. — What a perfect holiday this has been . Was there ever another such 
a truant Saturdaj-^ ; when the sun shone so brightly, the birds sang so sweetly, 
the flowers bloomed so gailj^; with such fair arching skies, and perfumed-winged 
zephyrs ? It is so glorious and gladsome that it makes me feel as happy as a 
bobolink. 

Mabel. —And yet, like so many bright and beautiful things, it has passed all 
too swiftly away, and, as the lengthening shadows give solemn warning, will 
soon end in darkness. 

Frank. —After an outing such as this, why should it not lie down to pleasant 
dreams, pillowed on fragrant mosses and wrapped in a starry mantle ? 

Mabel. — Ah, yes ! but it will never wake again. 

Frank.— That's nothing to sigh over, for so many like it will rise with the 
thrush's matin, to take its place and borrow roguish brightness from your 
eyes, that not one, nor yet a hundred, ever will be missed. Why, then, should 
passing melancholy cheat you of one of its rare smiles? 

Mabel. — My eyes were dull, indeed, diil they not see how idle and far- 
fetcheil IS your blind compliment, which, as a supplement to the " woeful 
ballad made to his mistress' eyebrows," provokes a smile, though a sad one ; for 



20 

while I believe I am much less superstitious than most of my sex, a strange 
presentitnent of coming evil seems to chill the balmy evening air. 

Frank. — My dear Miss Moreland, you are the last person I should expect to 
see thus depressed by utterly groundless forebodings. Don't give way to 
'•loathed melancholy, of Hecate boru, in Stygian caves forlorn," or I, too, shall 
soon be "sighing like a furnace . " Probably fatigue has made you slightly 
nervous . 

Mabel. — It is not that, for I am a famous tramp, as you ought to know by 

this time, and could walk the distance OTer again without feeling the least bit 

tired. 

Frank— I trust that nothing has occurred to unpleasantly aflfect you. 

Mabel. — Indeed, no ! It has been the one perfectly happy clay of all my life, 
the like of whioh I fear that I shall never know again. 

Frank. — You shall have many years of them, unblemished by a single passing 
cloud, if you will but trust the fixture in my hands. 

Mabel. — Mr. Hardy, you take altogether too serious a view of my silly senti- 
mentality. It is getting late and it will never do, you know, for the school- 
mistress to be marked tardy at home . Let us return. 

Frank. — Stay but a moment, for I can endure this suspense no longer and 
must speak out and learn my fate at once . Miss Moreland, dear Mabel, I have 
loved you from the first time I saw you, and as I have come to know you better 
and to appreciate the virtiie and mental graces which ennoble your personal 
charms with their pure radiance, my passion is tempered with tenderest rever- 
ence. In all truth, honor and manliness, I love you, and here, in the sight of 
heav< n. which looks down upon us through the azure depths, I offer you my 
hearc and hand in proof of it. (Sleele rusJies out <i)id beats him with his riding 
whip.) What is the meaning of this ? 

Steele. — You ungrateful scoundrel, never cross my path again ! 

Mabel {who at Steele's sudden appearance shrunk hack in alarm). — What ! Dis- 
graced, insulted, beaten in my presence, without remonstrance or resistance ! 
It is incredible, and yet I must believe my eyes, for there he stands, irresolute 
and trembling, like a whipped cur. Oh, the unspeakable agony and shame of 
it ! (7b Frank.) Leave me, sir ! 

Frank (usicie).— My God ! what can I say? My own deception, well-meant 
though it was, has sealed my lips. {To Mabel.) I implore you, do not mis- 
judge me, Mabel. I shall soon be able to satisfactorily explain this painful 
interruption. 

Mabel.— Never t) me, sir. Y'^our conduct forestalls all explanation. To a 
blow, a brave man and a gentleniiin makes but one reply, and instantly . I 
could not feel more utterly humiliated had your superior bestowed his lash on 
me. Go ! self-branded as that which of all things a true woman most despises — 
a coward ! 

(Frank is about to speak, but checks himself, looks mournfully and reproachfully at 
her, then draws himself up proudly and, bowing to her-, leaves the scene ; while 
Sniggerwell, unseen by either, appears and chuckles and grimaces at Frank. ) 

CUBTAIN. 



21 



ACT III. 

SCENE FIliST.— Thk L.uvn in Fhont of Moijkland's House. 
{Entei- Mabel aiul Mollii;, ) 

MoLL'E {lai«jhln(j. )~Thai ViUo will bo the death of me yet. He has a good 
hoiiesl heart under his dude dressiug-gowii, and plenty of gumption, too, about 
some things; but, lord, when it couies to farming, lie s greener than pepper- 
grass. 

Mabel —He is very amusing, at times, but always a most considerate gentle- 
man, and almost painfully anxious not to make us any trouble. 

MoLLiE.— So he is, and I am frank to say that I like him ever so much, even 
if I do have to langh at him. 

Mauel. — That is a very signilicaut admission for you to make. Take care, 
my dear, or I shall certainly be compelled to request the Doctor to be less 
marked in his attentions. 

MoLLiE. — If you do, I'll leave the place. But, what do you suppose he asked 
me just now? 

Mabel. — To marry him, of course. 

MoLLiE. — Don't be perfectly ridiculous, just because you know how. He 
asked me if I didn't think the cows would look more ornamental with brass 
placques tied to their tails, instead of with gilt bjlLs stuck on the tips of their 
horns ; and having heard uncle tell D.m to hitch the oxen to the stone-boat, he 
waut'-d to Lnow how they could manage to tow a boat in Elk Creek, and how a 
stone-boat could float, any way. And, oh, dear! oh, dear! he asked me, in a 
most suspicious way, if there was a baby concealed about the premises, and 
when I said no, of course not, he muttered to himself: " I'll wager tht re is aud 
that these innocent womeu folks don't know anything about it; or else why did 
M' rcland say he couldn't use the cradle because it was not hung right?" 

[Eaiiv De Pille, in nioridiK/ ijowii, smoJciiiy cap and slippei's, smokiruj a chjar ) 

De Pille. I wish, Mollie, I could bottle a few gross of that laugh for imme- 
diate use among my dysi)eptic patieuts— that is, when I get them. 

Mollie.— I'm afraid you'd label it extract of two-lips and sell it to your 
brother dudes. 

De Pille. — No, indeed ; I would take it all myself first. 

Mollie- -I'd just like to see you do it. Though the book of Revelation 
makes no mention of a beast with seven cheeks, I think there is one pastur- 
ing in this iii'ighborhood. 

De Pille, —That's right, hit a poor invalid who meekly turns the other one 
also. 

Mollie.— Your recovery has been so rapid as to beat the patent medicine 
advertisements all hollow. Dut, spccddug of that, what has become of your 
devoted nurse . 

Dii Pille.— I am entirely at a loss to account for his prolonged absence and 
silence, wbich greatly perplexes and^worries me, and I think we all miss him— 
do we not Miss Mabel ? 



Mabel (^/si(/e.) — What shall I say? I am entirely inditferent on the 
subject. 

MoLLiE.— I'll agree to wear bed ticking if yon look it, and ever since he 
disappeared you have gone moping about, like a pussy cat hunting for her lost 
kittens. 

Mabel.- Mollie I how dare you saj' such a ridiculous thing? 

De Pille. — I hope you two have not quarreled? 

MoLLiE.— I should not condescend to quarrel with such a person as Mr. 
Hardy . 

De Pille. — But, excuse me, it seems you have, though. 

Mabel.— Not at all, sir ; I simply left him in disgust, when I found him to 
be beneath my contempt. 

De Pille. — How so. Miss Moreland? 

Mabel. — As a poltroon, sir. 

DePille. — Miss Moreland, as a physician, permit me to inquire, is insanity 
hereditary in your family, or have you ever had anj' previous temporary attack 
of it? 

Mabel. —What do j'ou mean, sir. by such a question ? 

Dk Pille. — That you must be crazy when you call mj' friend a coward. He 
is one of the bravest fellows I ever knew, and I have seen him prove it. Ask 
Zeke what a wholesale thrashing he gave Bully Buskirk, for striking a crippled 
lad down at the corners . 

Mabi'.l. — I shw him horsewhipped before my very eyes, sir, without daring to 
resent it. 

De Pille. — Frank horsewhipped ! By whom ? 

Mabel. — I do not know ; ahk him. 

De Pille. — But, surelj', he offered some explanation ? 

Mabel. — The situation explained more than I cared to know, sir. 

De Pille. —Miss Moreland, there is some terrible mistake here. I will pledge 
my own life and honor on it, and I fear that if you knew all, or even bs much 
as I do, you would bitterly repent j^our impetnonsness. I shall not rest^until I 
have sifted this most unfortunate affair to the bottom, and I am now going to 
adjourn to the early potato patch for my constitutional hoe, to think it over. 

(Exit DePille.) 
MoLLiE. — And I am going to knead my dough, and I hope you won't find 
your cake is all the same, Mab. (Exit Mollie. ) 

Mabel. — How unhappy I am The last look of proud reproach and sorrow 
he gave me haunts me by day and night, and I am everywhere pursued by the 
miserable doubt that I may have been too hastj^ But no ! no ! I cannot be mis- 
taken. My cheek burns, even now, at the thought of the brutal indignity 
which he bore so tamely. That he professed to love me makes it all tbe more 
unendurable. I could never marry such a man, for I should ever see upon 
him the degrading marks left by the unresisted lash. Why did he say he loved 
me? Why cannot I forget his fervent words ? Surely his memory is not worth a 
j^ear, and yet I weep over him as for one that is dead . I must not yield to such 
unpardonable weakness, but hasten to remove its tell-tale traces, and bear 
myself before them all with the courage which, alas, he lacks. {Exit Mabel.) 



23 

(Enter Morel and and Zeke.) 

MorklaNd.— Belching Vesuvius and fried Hottentots, but it bas been a 
scorcher in that wheat liekl to-da}^ and I'm bhizin' like a pine knot. Zeke, run 
and fetch the wash dish, and I'll see if I can't cool ofiE this spontaneous com- 
bustion. {Exit Zekk.) Some how, things ain't goin' exactly as I'd like to have 
them this season. It's tough work lightin' weevil, rust, dry weather and low 
prices combined, and there's three of them shirt-t lil notes comin' due, and it's 
astonishin' how time gets up and gallops wh< n one has debts to pay. It's lucky 
I've got a tidy sum salted away in the bank, and even at that I shall have to 
hustle lively to keep on the nigh side of the notary public. I've thought more 
than once, lately, that arter all Mab may be right, and (fn/er Ball) I may find 
myself land poor, through tryin' to spread myself over more eggs than I can 
hatch to once. 

Ball reads the following fable : 

"Socrates and the Eggs. 

Socrates, the wis 3, by mistake, once set a favorite and reliable hen on 
thirteen pickled eggs. At the end of six weeks the hen complained to her 
master, saying : ' Oh, my master, lo and behold, there is no more hatch to 
these eggs than there is to an Indian canoe.' 'Never mind, serenely replied 
the heroic philosopher, for thou hast learned the lesson that spring chicken is 
not always to be had for the asking, and we will preserve the eggs for our 
summer boarders from Boston.' 

Moral. — A truly wise man can get the best of even a bad egg." 

MoRELAND. — There's a spice of comfort in that moral, Boz, and if I have to 
put bad bargains in place of bad eggs, we must just jump in, like lightnin' 
splittin' rails, and wisely make the best of it. 

{Enter Zeke, with basin, soap, and a coarse towel.) 

Zeke — Hello, Boz ! Mab told me, if I see you, to ask you to step in, and 
she'd send your sister, Penina, the recepie for freezin' flat-irons in August. 
I'll go with you to see that it don't burn your fingers 

{Exit Ball and Zeke . ) 

MoRELAND {vhjm'OUfily washing himself and trying to talk at the same time). — 
" That's cool," as the polar bear said of his mother-in-law's kiss. 

(Enter Mrs. De Pille.) 

Mrs. De PiLLE. — What is that rubicund creature trying to accomplish with 
that stewpan, block of molasse^ latfj' and remnant of sackcloth ' In these high 
church days he may be doing penance for some secret sin. Can it be possible 
that he is trying to wash himself. My goo*! man ! 

MoRELAND. -Zeke, just run in and tell Mollie to sew a collar button on my 
best biled shirt, and you hunt up my Sunday galluses and a clean pair of socks. 

Mrs De Pif.le. — This is too utterly horrible ! What do you mean, man, by 
daring to use such detestable vulgarity in my presence ? 

MoriKLAND (staring at her in great confusion).- I beg your pardon — how do you 
do? Won't 3'ou walk in? Hope you are well? No otfence. How is the folks? 
I thought you was Zeke. 

Mrs. De Pille. — I am not well. I will not walk in. And I am not Zeke ! 



24 

MoRELAND. — Well, there ain't no stiikin' family resemblance, and I've made a 
mistake, and got the wrong pig by the ear. Take a seat, ma'am. (Removes the 
icash-disJifrom the backless chair, ich'ich he lo'pes off wi'h the towel and offers her.) 

Mrs. DePille. — Savage granger! for such your uncouth deportment indi- 
cates you to be, do you take me for an earthenware pitcher, that you offer me 
a wash-stand to sit on ? 

MoRELAND (aside) . — She acts more like an umpire than a pitcher. No offence, 
ma'am— stand, if you prefer. 

Mrs. DePille. —Exhausted and terrified as I am, by what my delicate 
senses are forced to see, hear and smell in this howling wilderness, I will 
stand, sir. Uncultured argriculturist, do you know who I am? 

MoRELAND. —That is one of the many fashionable advantages you have over 
me, ma'am, for I can't say that I have the pleasure. 

Mrs. De Pille. -I am a mottier, sir. 

MoRELAND. — I congratulate you ma'am, and wish you many returns of the 
same blessin'. 

Mrs . De Pille . —I have but one blessing of that kind, if it can be termed 
such, and I am now seeking its return. 

Moreland. — I don't know that I exactly catch on to your meanin'. ma'am. 

Mrs. De PiLLE.— Slang, sir, illy becomes one of your age. I am in 
search of a prodigal. 

Moreland . — A what ? 

Mrs. De Pille. — A prodigal. Where is he ? 

Moreland. — There ain't been nobody yardin' v^ith our hogs, or fillin' up with 
husks around here ; but if I find one I'll let you know, and trot out the tiddlers 
and the fatted calf. 

Mrs. De Pille. — Diluted blasphemy will not serve, sir. I am reliably in- 
formed that he is harbored here. Produce him instantly, or dread the full 
majesty and inexorable application of habeas corpus. 

Moreland. — Produce who ? 

Mrs. De Pille. —My son. 

Moreland. — Well, ma'am, I'm a perjured son of a gun if I know anything 
about him. What may his name be? 

Mrs. De Pjlle.— The now, I fear, dishonored name of that lieartless vagrant 
and abandoned waif is Hugo Plantaganet La Payette De Pille, M.D. 

Moreland.— Hull's surrender ! I feel as though I'd been hit with a cord of 
green hemlock. (Aside.) Halleluja'i ! Here comes the prodigal pill just in 
the nick of time, as the broad-axe said to the small boy's toe. You'd better get 
under the straw stack, Jonathan, for it's goin' to storm. 

(Enter De Pille, dressed in over-dls, wearing a big straw hat and 

carryiiKj a hoe . ) 

De Pille (leani^ig on his hoc, in a brown study) . Here is a question for the next 
annual meeting ('f the Post-Morteui Society. Is hay fever contagious? and, if 
so, does the gr»iss catch it? I heard Moreland tell Dan Furiow that the hay 
was curei, and, of course, argumg a priori, it must have been sick before it 
could have been cured. I shall expect to hear next that they vaccinate the 
oats, stimulate the rye and salivate the pumpkins. Well, live and learn, and I 
might add, hoe and sunburn, for I am minus much cuticle and plus twenty- 
seven laudable blisters, to be added to my stock of agricultural knowledge. 



25 

I've found out what buttirriiiilk is, any way, aud I'll go and ask Goggie for a 
flowing bowl of it. {Looka up and sies his n. other ) What ! Can I believe uiy 
eyes? My dear mamiua ! {Hushes Jorwdvd and dltt'inpls to anbraceher.) 

Miis. De Pim.e. — Get out, you audiicious brute ! {Gives him a shove and he falls.) 

Dk I'lLLK. - {As-.unun(j a siUbnj post-iVe on (he ground.) Deirest mamma, have 
you ho soon fogotteu your doting IJugv) P. L. F. D. P , M. D. V 

Mes. Dd;PiLLE — Graeious powers! It is! It is! the tanned, tittered and 
disheveled wreck of my lost darling. {Falls i)do MorekuaVs arms in Jtysteiics.) 

MoitELANU. — Help ! Camphor ! Vinegar ! Red Pepper ! Hartshorn ! Anything ! 
{ Knia- Mxukij and Mollie.) Here, girls, Itaid a hand and get this lady into a 
mustard bath or something. 

Mabl;l —Poor lady ! Who is she? How come she here ? What is the matter? 

\loiiLiE. -A whole milliner store in hysterics, and a living rainbow in a fit. 
It's perfectly gorgeous, but awfully embarrassing. 

{JSx'd all. Mabel aiul Mollie supporting Mks. De Piele, who screams and 
struggles. 



SCENE II. — Hauby Steele's Office. 

{Elder Snigger WELL. ) 

Snig.— I have literally done the devil of a morning's work and it promises a 
rare yield of fruit to correspond; in the picking of which, for the gratification of 
my own fastidious private palate, I propose to make thrifty use of my dear mas- 
ter's greedy talons. He is worse thana Siberian blood-hound in his pursuit of old 
Moreland. He sticks to his trail night and day, aud seems to tbiuk of nothing 
else. His threats are blood-curdling, and the awful imprecations he utters 
dreadfully shocking to a moral man like me. He acts like a lunatic. But what 
of that? We are a'l crazy in one way or another. I'm stark mad myself —so 
madly in love with a clover blossom that my cold blood seems turned to liquid 
fire, and I am insanely resolved to go any lengths to pluck it. Blind Fortune is 
bravely backing me through this i/urse-proud tyrant and his super-sensitive 
son. What rare and costly playthings for a cub's amusement, to be sure, and 
how he'll spoil them when he tires of them. 

{Enter Steele.) 

Steele. —What have you accomplished in this Moreland hunt? 

Snig. - 1 found three judgment notes and a purchase money mortgage 
entered again^t him, aggregating six thousand seven hundred dollars. 

Steki-e. — Have you seen the owners ? 

Snig. —Yes, sir, and bought the claims. 

Steele.- Good ! Very good ! AVhat else ? 

Snig. — He has $5,000 on deposit in the Humboldt bank. 

Stkile. — Ha! Its cashier, Mr. Probity, I am secretly advised, has been 
speculating largely of late. That bank is shaky. I will break it at any cost.- 
Now, neighbor Morehmd 1 have you in my grasp, and will shake the life out of 
you as I would out of a mangy rat 

Snig. — I think, my dear niMster, we may safely say that he is in the trap. 

Steele. — Yes, and I long to see him gnaw his heart out in his vain efforts to 
escape . 



20 

{tlntei- De Pille unobserved.) 

Snig.— May 1 ventiire^to inquire if you have any news from Mi'. Frank yet? 

SxEitLE.— If I had, it is none of your affair, and I suspect you of a sneaking 
sympathy for him. 

Snig. — Dear master, he was your son and tlierefore I loved him, but I must 
concede that hisi)iiuishment, though severe and most humiliating, was deserved. 
Besides, in consequence of it, she drove him from her. 

Steele— She did? Then I swear, I am more th «n half inclined to cancel her 
share of the family debt, but, as for him, until he comes to me, bere, and on his 
knees implores forgiveness for consorting with my enemies, he is so iitterly 
discarded that I will not brook the bare mention of his name. Remember this, 
on pain of instant dismissal. 

Da PiLLE {aside). -DocioY, there will be no occasion for yon to call again, 
and I venture to furthermore remark, that you are the first person, very 
singular number, that ever came to this shop for information and got it, with- 
out paying one hundred per cent, commission for the same. We will now 
quietly infuse ourself into t)pe outer atmosphere. {Exit De Pili e ) 

Sniq.— Biit) sir, should anybodj^ ask for him. what am I to sa}' ? 

Steele. - Send them to Moreland's brat for information. And now to under- 
mine this rotten bank until it falls and crushes my enemy to pulp beneath its 
rnins. Come with me, I may require you to plaj" the mole and do some 
Bfccret digging. 

Snig. — If so, I'll burrow deeply under the foundation — {aside) — beneath your 
feet, dear master. (£lr/« Steele a>id Sniggerwell.) 



SCENE III.— A Room in MoRhLA>D's House. 

{Zeke propped up in an ea^y chair, apparently asleep, Mabel watching beside him.) 

Mabel. — Poor little fellow, how he has suffered, and what a narrow escape be 
has bad. Under Providence, be owes his life to tbe skill, courage and devotion 
of Doctor De Pille. How grateful we should all be to him. What a wise and 
noble man he is. And to think how near I came to turning a ministering angel 
from our doors because disguised in foppish raiment. I will never again 
j ulge from appearances alone. Alas, ma}' I not have already most unjnstlj' done 
so in the person of his friend, whom he so loyally defends ; and is he not far 
more capable of judging correctly than am I? How lonely the place seems 
without his manly presence and frank and winning waj's. The very animals 
appear to miss him, and when Zeke was delirious he talked continually^ about 
him. Even father seems to look reproachfully at me whenever his name is men- 
tioned. What have I done ? Oh Frank, my darling! I have found out all too 
late how much I love you, but you will never come back to me again. 

(.fi^nfer De Pille.) 

De Pille. — What, tears. Miss Mabel? There is nothing to cry for, unless it 
be for joy. Our Juvenile Electric Generator will be in full operation again in a 
few days, stronger than ever, and then, woe be unto them that monkey with the 
battery. You are nervous aod tired, and need rest. Leave him to me for a 
while. 



27 

Mabel. — Heaven bless yon, my denr, dear friend ! 

De Pjlle.— I am afraid I sadly need a prescription or two from that quarter. 
But, Ibis, yon know, is the Doctor's kingdom; so obey his edict and emigrate 
to bed at once . 

Mabel. — Good-night. 

De Pille.— ^o/(?^s nox, fair lady, and rosy dreams of many future conquests. 

{Exit Mabel.) 

Zeke.— Doc, you needn't walk sick-room Spanish, I ain't asleep. 

De Pille. — You ought to be; didn't I order it? 

Zeke. — I did my best, Doc, but there aint a single snore left nowhere about 
me. 

De Pille. — Then I will have to mix you up some more. 

Zeke. — Let me blow oft" a little steam, first. 

De Pille. — What do yon want to say? 

Zeke. — I ain't goin' to kick the bucket, am I? 

De Pille. — Now, there is a complimentjiry question to fire at the erudite 
faculty of this private hospital. Not this time; though what effect future 
medical experiments may have on your anatomj', I am not at present fully 
prepared to say. 

Zeke. — Well, I feel mean enough to. 

De Pille. — And why ? 

Zeke. — 'Cause I've been playin' Belzebub to a natural born saint. I've had 
time to do a heap of thinkin' since I've been stalled, and it hurts here (laying 
his hand upon his heart.) You've stuck by me when everyone else skedaddled, 
like a lot of skeered rabbits, at the mere mention of black dipthery ; and j'ou've 
nursed me more tenderer than my de.iir mammy, that is dead and gone, could 
have done. When I think how I've treated you, I feel worse than old Watch 
did when he mistook the beehive for a burglar. Either pizen me to slow and 
solemn music, or else take my hand — what is left of it- and say you forgive me. 

De Pille. — With all my heart, my boy. Nothing but an excess of animal 
spirits and surplus energy. I know some people call it pure cussedness, and 
try to deal with it as if it were ; but they run a great risk of making very poor 
sugar by souring very good sap. So don't get excited, but shake, and say ao 
more about it . 

Zeke. -You're the kind of go-as-j'ou-please Christian for a young sinner like 
me to tie to, and I'll knock seventeen kinds of rainbows out of any smarty, at 
the drop of the hat, that looks cross-eyed at j'ou . 

De Pille. — Y'^ou evidentlj' belong to the church militant, Zeke. 

Zeke. — Say, Doc. 

De Pille.— Well? 

Zeke. - I knowed all the time that wan't no bird's nest. 

De Pille. — A cursory examination led me to the same conclusion. Live and 
learn, you know, mj^ J'oung Audobon. 

Zeke. —And, say. Doc, I know something else. 

De Pille. — Is it possible ? 

Zeke. — You won't give it away ? 

De Pille. - Honor bright ! 

Zeke. — Mab's in love with Frank Hardy. 



28 

De Pille. — We'll b ive to m.ike a duct jr of you, Zeke. You diagnose heart 
trouble admirably. I have been cognizant of those symptoms for some time 
myself. 

Zeke. — She thought 1 was asleep, and, while I was playin' possum, got 
talkin' to herself, aod that 's what she was cryin' about when you came in. 

De Pille. -I know something, too, Zeke. 

Zkkic— Spit it right out, as the bad oyster said to the alderman. 

De Pille. — You won't give it away? 

Zeke. — Corn cobs twist my hair, if I do. 

De Pille. — I know who struck Frank Hardy. 

Zeke. — No ! 

De Pille. — Yes ! 

Zeke. — Who. 

De Pille— His father. 

Zeke. — Bunged up Billy Patterson ! AVhere's Mab ? 

De Pille. — Remember your promise. 

Zeke.— But, Doc, 'taint right, she ought to know. 

De Pille. — So she shall, in good time ; but I cannot see my way clear to it 
just yet, without betra^ang my friend's confidence. 

Zeke.— Well, Doc, if you say set fire to General Washington's Fourth of 
July wig, she goes. 

De Pillk. — How I wish, for both their sakes, that we could bring bim back 
but I have not the remotest idea Avhere he is, or how to reach him . 

Zeke.— I'll tell you whattj do; put a puroenal in the papers, signed Mab, 
sayin' it's all a mistake, and askin' him to return. I'll bet my game rooster 
a>.iii a bole in the fence that'll fetch him. 

L'i. PjLLE.-Zeke, you are a diplomat of the first rank, and I shall yet live to 
see you ambassador to Coney Island. It is a case demanding heroic treatment, 
and we will try it. 

{Enler Ball.) 

Zeke. — How are you, Boz? I'm right glad to see jon, and it's migbty kind 
of you to drop in on a feller, as the alligator said to the bull pup. 
Ball reads the following fable : 

"The Rabbi and his Slipiers. 

In the reign of King Solomon, a favorite Rabbi of the Temple w^as pre- 
sented at the feast of the Passjvtr with 1.700 i)airs of gorgeous worsted-worked 
slippers, by the adoring maidens of bis large and fashiomible congregation. 
'What, in tbe name of the bare-f.oted heathens, will you ever do with such a 
deluge of 11 imsy footgear?' anxiously queried his wife. 'Racbel,' replied the 
good and popular dominie, with a solemn wiuk of his intellectual eye, ' last 
night, lo, I had a vit-ion of three golden balls over a side door in Jehosapbat 
alley.' 

Moral. — Even the heart of a pawnbroker is not proof against the pledges of 
affection." 

Zeke. -That just about fits me, and will do to go to sleep on ; so, if you 
fellers Mill give me a lift, I'll turn iu, as the Injun's toes said to his moccasins. 

De Pille . — Come, Mr. Ball, lend a hand on the other side . ( Ball, after a 
good deal of trouble in disposing of his book, takes Zekt's arm. ) 

{Exit all.) 



29 

SCENE IV. — The Family Eoom in Morela.nd's House. 

(AcO'utry galherin<f of old and yoiau) folks to celebrate Zeke's recovery; including 
Mabi L, MoLLiE, Zeke, Dk Pii le, Mks. De PiLLE and Moreland. A game 
of Blind Man's Bujf in progress, iciih De PiLLE blind-folded, and in which all 
take part except Mks . De Pille, and Mobeland, icho stands guard at the fire- 
place . ) 

Mrs. De Pjlle. — Gracious me ! Hugo will inevitably break bis neck, or that 
of some one else, if he keeps plunging about in that blindly insane manner. 

MorvEi.AND.- Never fear, ma'am! Purty gals is mighty soft and safe things 
to run agin . 

Mrs. De Pille. — More soft than safe, I fear, Mr. Moreland. {A rush in her 
dirtction.) Mercy upon us ! We shall be knocked. clear up the chimney. But 
it's just splendid, lovely and innocent fun, after all, and another bright lesson 
added to tbe many that all of your kind hearts and hospitable hands have 
taught me, in correcting the weak and foolish, I might almost say shameful 
and viekt-d prejudices aud false ideas I held, regarding the real bone and sinew 
and brains of our land . 

Moreland. — Some of us make most as big mistakes in estimatin' j^ou city 
folks, ma'am. The Almighty made both samples, and out of the s ime kind of 
garden sile, afore Adam was told to move West and grow up with the country ; 
and human natur is human natur, all the world over, as the magpie said when 
he picked tlie monkey's pocket. {Another grand rush and scramble, during ichich 
De Pille seizi-s his mothtr, who is about to scream, when Moreland claps his hand 
over her mouth.) Don't holler ; let him guess who is it, 

De Pille. — Mollie Goggins. 

Zeke. --Well, I didn't suppose it took a wise man to know his own mother. 
Score an error and an out agin the doctor . You're turn next, Mollie. Blind 
her well and let her tell. {Enter Ball, Mollie seizes him.) Who is it ? 

Mollie . — Dan Furrow . 

Zeke.— Out at the home plate — judgment ! 

(B.'iLL reads the following fable :) 

" A Double Fraud. 

" Justice and Fortune, who by Jove's orders always went about carefully blind- 
folded, chanced to run violcDtly against each other, while wandering in Scipio 
Africanus's green house. 'Who are you that dares to thus rudely knock all the 
ethereal wind out of meV gasped Justice. 'An artist,' replied Fortune. 'Who 
are you?' 'Comstock,' replied Justice. 'You are both liars,' exclaimed the 
head gardener. 

Moral. — It is exceedingly difficult to conceal the bare truth from the naked 
eye." 

Zeke. — Now for the forfeits. Who'll you have forjudge ? 

All. — Miss Mabel ! Miss Mabel! (Mabel is blindfolded and takes her seat.) 

Zeke {leading up a yoiuig lady. ) — What tax to Madcap shall this pay ? 

Mabel. ^ — Sweet or sour? 

Zeke {smacking his lips.) — Swe-et. 

Mabel.— She must whistle once ; look like a dunce, and kiss the fellow that 
laughs first. {The young lady tries to whistle,- then looks foolish. Moreland roars 
and she hugs and kisses him. ) 



30 

MoEELAND, — Jennie, you've got mighty good taste, and taste mighty good, 
too. 

Zeke {leading vp Mollie.)— What tax to Madcap shall this pay? 

Mabel . —Prunes or Pickles ? 

Zeke. — Pre-sarves . 

M\BEL.— Tell where she belongs; make love to the tongs, and sing us the 
latest of topical songs. 

MoLUE —In the milky whey. {She hugs the longs and Ihen sings Ihefolloioing song :) 

BUT, GOOD GRACIOUS, I MUSN'T TELL TALES ! 

I. 

I'm a very wise maiden from Boston. 

As is shown by the cut of my clothes ; 
With a wonderful pair of eye-glasses, 

Perched on my intelligent nose. 
They were given to me bj' Minerva, 

To i3rotect me from dangerous males ; 
And such curious things I see through them — 

But, good gracious, I musn't tell tales ! 

II. 

They are onto a class of young puppie.s. 

Who aspire to be English you know, 
And contempt for their parents and country. 

In every way possible show— 
Who'd regard as a high decoration, 

A kick from the Dutch Prince of Wales, 
And would pawn their small souls for a title — 

But good gracious, I musn't tell tales ! 

III. 

They descry that the President's fatter, 

And don't take enough exercise ; 
What's the matter with his turning actor. 

And trying a tramp o'er the ties ? 
For a company I once belonged to 

Played the "walking gent" over the rails, 
And got home ev'ry one " light comedians" — 

But, good gracious, I musn't tell tales ! 

IV. 

Now they focus the sweet little drummer, 

Who only his mama has kissed, 
And yet is eternally bragging 

No girl can his mashing resist ; 
He's as fresh as his latest Spring samples, 

Very fast, except in making sales; 
He's adored by the fair table waiters — 

But, good gracious, I musn't tell tales ! 



31 



Thej' perceive tbat of laws there's a surfeit, 

With Jiistice both blind and dead lame : 
That assassins and murderons bullies 

Escape through the plea of insane ; 
Big boodlers in palaces lolling, 

Instead of adorning our jails ; 
That it's safe to rob only by wholesale — 

But, good gracious, I musn't tell tales. 

Zeee {leading up a young fdlow). — What tax to Madcap shall this pay V 

Mabel. --Molasses, or medicine? 

Zkke. — Castor oil. 

Mabel. ^ — In the corner to bed, and stand on his head, 'till he spells out the 
name of the girl he would wed. {He resists somewhat, hut several of the others take 
hold of him and stand him upside down as directed until he spells, " B i-r-d-i-e.") 

Zeke (lea-ling up DePille). — What tribute to Madcap shall this pay? 

Mabel. — Sugar, or sand? 

Zeke. -Coarse gravel. 

Mabel, — He must mew like a kittj^ say somf-thing that's witty, and sing an 
original rural love ditty. 

De PiLLE. — But, see here, Miss Mabel ! 

Mrs. De Pille. — Hugo, if you would live to command, you must learn to obey. 

De Pjlle. — Me-ouw ! Eats ! {Sings tlte first verse of the following song to the tune 
of " Aidd Lang Syne.") 

THE MILK OF LOVE. 

When the wood-pecker's song is heard soft in the Spring, 

And the crow coos his amorous lay ; 
How enchanting it is in the barn-yard to stroll, 

And, by moonlight, the piggies survey ; 
While the girl of your heart, with her pail on her arm. 

Veiled in curls of a sunshiny gloss. 
Like a wood-nymph, reclines on a one-legged stool, 

And in siren tones murmurs, " Co, boss !" 

{Hold on! TliaVs not the right tune — {attempts to run the sc(de) —do, ra, me, fa, la, la. 
Sings the fvllowing— second verse — to the tune of " Lord Lovell.") 

Lost in rapture, you gaze on her dimpled brown hands, 

As so deftly they fill the milk pail ; 
How you envy old Cowslip each vigorous squeeze, 

As she fans that soft cheek with her tail ; 
While a laughing brown eye, that's as clear as the sky, 

From beneath its long lash darts a ray, 
That makes you feel just like a poor little calf. 

When they've stolen its mamma away. 



32 

{Slop! Slop, Gamul J Thai's nol the right tune either. {Hums.) Now 1 have it. 
Sings the following— third verse— to the tune of " Yankee-Doodle." 
Proud pouter struts proudly upon the barn's peak, 

And all bravely makes love to his mate ; ' 

Which lesson from nature your courage revives, 

And you vow you'll forthwith emulate. 
So your arm half encircles her willowy waist — 

You'll do it ! No such word as fail ; 
And, with passionate fervor, you breathe in her ear, 
"Pray do let me carry your pail." 
{One of the young girls s]iouts, " Now, Unde Jonathan, you must blind, jusi once." 

MoKELAND. — Why, my dear, I'm stiffer than the Bishop of London. I can't 

frolic. 

{The young J oiks, in chorus, " Oh, do. Uncle Jonathan.") 

MoRELAND. — Well, if lam goin' on four score, I don't feel more than fourteen 
to-night, so here goes to make a bigger fool of myself than those did who com- 
menced the job. {IJe is blindjolded and a graud romp follows.) I'll get one of you 
yet, you young scapegraces ; and when I ketch you I'll make you jjay a forfeit 
that will bust your red tin savin's bank. {Enter SNiGGEitWF.LL—Moii eland grubs 
hold of him.) Ha ! ha ! you young tartar, I've caught you, have I ? 

Snig.-— I hope you won't think you've caught one in me, neighbor 
Moreland . 

MoiiELAND {tearing off the Jiandkerchief.) — Caleb Sniggerwell ! 

Snig.— Always at your j^service, my dear Mr. Moreland, and so 
delig'itdd to see you all so happy, that it brings tears of regret to my eyes, to be 
compelltid to intrude on such a joyous gathering. But needs must when the 
devil drives, you know, my good friend, and I am here ouly as the humble 
mouthpiece of my betters. 

MoKELAND. — Wh;it 's the need of drivin' round the backway when the front 
gate is wide open. You've got something to unload. Dump it. 

Snig. — Well, if you insist on my coming to business in a business 
way, Mr. Hardy Steele directs me to inform you that he has jJurchaKed all out- 
standing claims against yon -all, undersiand me — and, as he needs the money, 
he presents his kindest regards, and hopes j^ou will fiud it entirely convenient 
to pay him at once. 

MiBEE — Father, what does this mean? 

Moreland. — Nothin' dear, except what the Hon. Mr. Hardy Steele's mouth- 
piece has just told you. I can arrange to pay him ; so there's nothin' to worry 
a'»out. 

Smg. — Should any difficulty by any possibility arise, I beg to assure you, my 
dear Miss Moreland, that I am entirely at your disposal. 

Mabel. — But why intrude at such a time as this with such a matter.-' 

Snig. — It does seem a little odd and hasty, I grant you, my dear Miss 
Moreland, but my good master always transacts his busintiss in the imperative 
mood, and it were worth my place to question him. I am at once his f lithfnl 
servant and yours. He means well, undoubtedly, and may prove a more con- 
siderate creditor than others might have done. 



i 



33 

(Ball reads the followin<j fable :) 

"The Worm and thl; Rooster. 

The prize rooster of Cyrus the Great, while taking his constitutional early 
morning stroll, came upon an angle-worm. * What do you mean,' cried he, ' by 
raising mountains of filthy mud in my favorite walk.' ' Noble serenader of the 
Sun,' replied the trembling angle-worm, 'the secret society of Two-ended 
Tuonelers, of which I am Chief Working Master, held their annual bauquet in 
Underground Hall last night, at which I imprudently ate so much clay custard as 
to make me violently ill. As soon as I reached the iresh air my stomach suddenly 
revolted, and I am now suffering dreadfully from dirt colic, as you may readily 
perceive by the way I wriggle and twist.' 'Poor creature,' sympathetically 
sighed the rooster, * j^ours is, most truly, both a pardonable and a pitiful case, 
and it would be an act of genuine charity to put you out of your terrible misery.' 
Whereupon iie forthwith swallowed the angle-worm, and crowed lustily over 
his good deed. 

Moral. — It's a poor excuse that won't stay on a hungry stomach." 

Snig. — Do you mean to compare my kind and worthy master to a ravenous 
rooster ? 

Ball. -Well, on the spur of the moment, yes-sir-ee. 

Snig . — That's libelous . 

Zeke. — No it aint, boss ; it's truthfulous. 

Snig. — Well, I must be going. A merry good-night to all. {To Mabel.) 
Kemember my promise, my dear Miss Moreland . {As he reaches the door and 
opens it, he turns. ) By the way, although I don't suppose it will particularly 
interest any of you, I forgot to mention that the Humboldt Bank closed its 
doors this afternoon, and won't pay depositors five cents on the dollar. 

MoRELAND. — What's that you say? The Humboldt Bank busted? No! 
No ! It can't be true ! If you've come here to torture me with such an 
infernal lie as that — 

Snig. —If I have, then all the papers lie, too. There's one of them. See for 
yourself. {IJands Moreland a paper, which after looking at, he dr'ops, and 
staijgers. ) 

Mabel. — Father! dear father ! Why do you look and act so strangely? 
What has happened ? 

Moreland — {Laughiufj crazily .)—^oi\x\ix\ my little Morning Glory, nothin*, 
it's only a huge joke by a pack of gilded theives, that's beggared us all, at a 
single blow, 

{Falls into a seat, with his head resting on his arms ; Mabel clinging to him, De Pille 
with his hand on Mobbland's shoulder, and Zek« shaking his jist at 
Sniggerwell.) 

CURTAIN. 



u 



ACT IV. 

SCENE FIRST.— The Family Room in Moret.and*s House. 

(Enter Mokeland wUh notice of Sheriff's sale in his hand: sits at table.) 

MoRELAND (?ea(?.9.) — "By order of Court— jndgrnent— Hardy Steele vs. Jona- 
than Moreland— undersigned— sheriff's sale -all personal property and real 
estate"— Going, going, gone to the poorhouse ; a homeless, friendless, helpless 
pauper in my old age. {Sits staring at the notice. ) 

(Elder Mabel, who kneels beside Irim and pnts her a^ms around Jiis neck.) 

Mabel. — Dear father, for my sake be more cheerful and resigned. It breaks 
my heart to see you so iinhappy. Why, we are more than rich yet in each 
other's love, and if I owned the whole world, I would gladly give it all to see 
you smile once more. 

MouELAND. — Forgive me, little snow-drop, that I've sheltered in my heart of 
hearts from bud to spotless blossom. I meant well by you ; 'twan't from selfish- 
ness I lost you all in strivin' to get more. 

Mabel. — Father, I am no tender, drooping flower, but grown to be a vigorous 
young tree ; a sturdy staff for you to lean on. 

Moreland. — Let them Avrite "Land Poor" as my epitaph, to warn all other 
fools from followin' ruin in my footsteps. Thank God, they can't sell your 
mother's grave, Mabel, and there's room enough side of it for me. 

Mabel.— Father, if you die, so shall I. Oh, remember that you have Zeke 
and I to live for, and how could we live Avithout you? Wh}', Zeke will be a 
man soon, able to provide for all of us ; and, I am strong, and j^oung, and will- 
ing, and Oh. how proud I shall be to show you that all the money you have 
lavished on me has not been thrown away, but placed at compound interest. 

Moreland — You are a brave, good girl, Mab , and have been my pride and 
comfort in all my travelin' toward the sunset. You c^mie of thoroughbred 
stock, on both sides, and don't disgrace it. I'll try my best to meet misfortune 
like a man . Speakin' of stock reminds me ours ain't been fed yet. The dumb 
critters must not suffer, too, through our neglect. They've served us faithful, 
and shall be cared for till they're taken from us. (Exit Mor; land. ) 

(E)der Mollie.) 

Mollie. — How worn and broken poor uncle looks. Why should Mr. Steele 
be so hard on him V 

Mabel. — I can neither understand nor endure it longer, and have resolved to 
sacrifice my ]iride and appeal to Mr. Steele's generosity. 

MoLLTE. — I'm afraid there's mightj' little of it to appeal to ; but it won't do 
any harm to try, and maj' do some good . 

Mabel. — I will go at once, before ray courage fails me. (Exit Mabel.) 

Mollie. — And Heaven's blessing go with you, dear. 

( Erder Moreland . ) 
Moreland. — Where's Mab? 
Mollie. — Just drove off to town. 



I 



35 

MoRELAND. — What for? She did not tell me she was going. 

MoLLiE. — I don't know that she'd like to have me tell. 

MoRELAND. — Begun to have secrets from her old father, and ashamed to let 
him know her doin's. 

Mollis. — That's not so, uncle, and you would not say it if you waa yourself. 

MoRELAND. — Why has she gone, then? Speak out! I won't abide any 
skulking, gal ! 

MoLLiE. — If you must know— I guess she's gone to see Mr. Steele. 

MoRRLAND— Gone to see Hardy Steele? Gone to complete that scoundrel's 
triumph over us by supplicatin' to him for mercy? {Going.) Mabel, I say ! 
Come back ! Do you hear me ? Come back ! I command you ! 

{Exit MoRELAND /o//oioed by Mollie ) 



SCENE SECOND.— Hardy Steele's Office. 

Snig. — He, he ! my tools fit well to hand and, so far, are doing my work with 
neatness and dispatch ; but I must grind them to cut more sharply before that 
sheriff's sale comes off, or a crisis may be jirecipitated, in which Mabel will slip 
through my fingers. Lord, how they thrill and nche to clutch h^^r to my 
famishing heart ! But will she ever listen to my suit so long as she thinks he 
may return ? That's more than doubtful. I must remove him from my path — 
but how ? Why, kill him ! Not so as to swing for it, though. No blood, no 
violence. Oh, dear, no ! Artistically, by murdering him with the secret stabs 
of a sharp lie. Hum-um — a forged letter ; but, no, that's both vulgar nnd 
dangerous. I must have yet another tool. Wh^re shall I find one. {A knock 
at Ui.e door.) Come in, confound you ! 

{Enter Snide Walker, ^cith some cheap lead pencils in his hand.) 

Walker. — Lead pencils! Lead pencils! Five for a drink— I mean for a 
nickel. 

Snig. — No ! Get out, before I have to fumigate the place. 

Walker.— Wot! May I be erased if I don't believe it's Cub Sniggerwell ! 
Them hair! Those eye! That wart! Wash me if it ain't. I say. Cub, old 
pard, don't you know me? 

Snig. — Never saw you before and never want to again. 

W.\LKi'R.— If you're Cub Sniggerwell, whose mother run a news stand in 
Pilfer Alley, you do know me. I'm Mr. Sny.ler Walker, general curbstone 
broker, at present traveling for a big plumbago house and selling rub'ier outfits. 
Do you mark me, Hamlet ? 

Snig.— Now I look at you, I believe you are; but I should have sooner taken 
you for a condemned beer keg. 

Walker. —Friend of my better days, don't mistake me for a full one. for I'm 
teatotally empty. I'd do most anything for a square drink. 

Snig {asidf. ) -Here's my man, if I can keep him sober long enough. Would 
you? Well I'm sorry to see an old playmate in such hard luck, and I will help 
you substantially if you are willing to earn an honest penny easily, and here is 
a tip to prove it {Gives him money .) 

Waklir [biting the coin.) — I don't care so much for the honesty as I do for the 
ease of it. What's the lay ? 



36 

SNiG.^Only to go to a farmho^^se, in becoming disguise, and repeat a nice, 
toiicbiug little story I will teach you. 

Walker — All right, Cub. I'm your repeater. 

Snig — Very well . Get out of here at once, and meet me at the Slugger's 
Rest in an hour . 

Walker. — Think, dearest, of my maijy lonely hours, and fly to me. Turn on 
the red lights — I vanish ! (,Exll Walker.) 

{Enter Mabel.) 

Snig (a.siJe.)-- Mabel Moreland, by all that's beautiful! Good morning, my 
dear Miss Moreland. This is an unexpected pleasure. 
Mabel. — But a most unpleasant task to me, sir. 

Snig. — (.-Is'u/e. ) She's here to vainly try to soften Steele. I am very sorry to 
hear that, my dear } oung lady, and to see you look so sad. Would that I could 
comfort you. 

Mabel. — I thank you for even a kind word Heaven knows I need it. 

Snig. — Make it kind deeds, Miss Moreland, and you will find me even readier 
with them than with empty wor 's. Can I assist you ? 

Mabel. — I do not know, sir, I am sure, but I shall be most deeply grateful if 
you but can and will. I come to implore Mr. Ste.de to stay his heavy hand, 
and not completely crush my poor old father. You stand high in his esteem 
and confidence. Oh, sir, can you not move him to extend s^me leniency, if it 
be only to give us a little longer time in which to pay this debt? 

S iG {ic>ping his eyes with his handkerchi'f ) . — Alas! my dear, unfortunate 
yoang lady, you sadly mistake both my position and influence. I am but a 
drudge in money's ceaseless treadmill. My master is a strange, hard man ; at 
times even dangerous in his moods. 

Mabel. But, surely, his heart cannot be so encrusted with his gold that 
Mercy may not sometimes reach it with her tender touch ? Wealth, I have 
heard, turns men to monsters, but I will not believe it can breed fiends so 
horrible, as to ruthlessly destroy the innocent and unoffending. 

Snig. (asiih^). — She does not know the facts That's one for me. My dear 
Miss Morelaud, when I said I would befriend you, I meant it, and as a friend, I 
cannot lie to you, or lure you on to bitter disappointment with false hopes. 
Your mission here is worse than useless, and will fail. 

Mabel. -' Then is this rich man more to be pitied than his poorest victim. 
God have that mercy on him whii-h he denies to others, for the day surely comes 
when he will need it, even more than I do now ! I need not wait to see him. 
Good day, i-ir [going . ) 

Snig. {greatly agUaied). — Stay, Miss Mabel ! There is one who can help you. 

Mabel.— Who? 

Snig. -I. 

Mabel. — You !» Why you just now said you could not. 

Snig. — Not with him — but without him. 

Mabel. —How ? 

Snig. — Miss Mabel, my agony at your distress wrenches from me the secret I 
meant my grave should hide forever. I love you, as no man ever loved before. 

Mabel.— Sir, you forget yourself! 

Snig. — Here, at your feet, I implore you to hear and take pity on me. 



37 

Mabel. — Kise sir ; not another word. If yoii have a spark of manhood, spare 
me. 

Sn:g.— I am mad ; I know it; but I must and will be heard. For your dear 
father's sake be patient with me for but a moment. I have said I love you; 
that is ten thousand times too weak a word. I am your slave, and worship 
you. {Mabel aitenii its to inter IV Jit him.) You >/i«/niKten. (Seizes her hand.) You 
are the only being I have ever loved . Think what that means to me. I may 
not be as well-favored as some, but I am not an old man, and I have been frugal 
and aiu fairly wtll to do. Aye, even rich, rich, Mabel ! Take me and my whole 
fortune with me . Our wedding-day shall see your dear old father restored to 
happiness and assured plenty. The sum of all his debts shall be a marriage 
gift from his loved daughter's band. Think of that, IVJabel; think of it! His 
home; his pence; nay, his very life is in your keeping. Save him and pity me. 
I do not even bargain for your love, but I will strive to win and to deserve it, by 
being to you the best of husbands and the most unselfish and devoted of 
protectors. Oh, think of all I offer, and will be to you, and do not hastily 
reject me ! 

M.M5EL.— Oh, sir, this fills my cup of misery to overflowing ! I know what it 
is to suffer, and would save you from it if, I but could with truth and honor. 
But I cannot and must not be tempted to be false to both you and myself. I 
implore you, in turn, to pity me; for much as I sympathize with you, and 
respect, as every true woman must, the offer you have made me, I do not and 
never can love you as becomes a wife, and to give but an empty hand for all you 
offer, were both a s-hame and sin. 

Snig. — Y'^ou love another. 

MABEii. — You have no right to ask that question, sir ; but if it will comfort 
you to know it— I shall never marry. 

Snig. — Oh, Mabel, I can be so patient, and will wait, and watch over, and 
work for you, if you will only give me just a little hope, to keep life in me. 

Mabel.— You said you were my friend and could not deceive me ; I should 
be, indted, ungrateful did I not meet your candor with equal frankness. It is 
worse than useless ; it is cruel to torture me further ; or to thus force me to 
wound, where I am utterly powerless to cure, {Going.) 

Snig.— 1 cannot, and will not give you up — {aside)— not even if I have to 
summon all the arts of hell to aid me. 

Steele —(^speaking at the door to sovuone outside )— Spring it suddenly and 
surprise him . 

{Enter Steele.) 

Mabel {starting back.)— Thai voice! That face! They have haunted me 
for weeks ! It is he ! 

Steele {to Mabel. )— You here ! What do you want ? 

Mabll,— I came to see Mr. Hardy Steele. 

Steele. -And you do not know him? That's incredibly strange ! Well, I 
will do myself the honor of introducing you. I am he. Now, Miss, what do 
you want of Mr. Steele? 

Mabel. — Nothing, except that he will let me pass. 

STiiELE. — With pleasure, bordering on much relief; but ere you go, take 
with you a father's heartfelt thanks and blessing, for helping to lure his son 
from him . 



38 

Mabel. — YoTirson? Your larxguage, sir, is as inexplicable as iDsulting. I 
do not know liim . 

Steele. — Did you hear that, Cub? Why don't you bestir yourself to do 
fitting reverence to rural Truth incarnate? She does not know my son, and yet 
she saw me horsewhip him for dallying with her. 

Mabel. Your son? Frank Hardy your son? 

SiEELE. — Not Frank Hardj^ rare Miss Ignorance, but Frank Steele, whom, I 
repeat, your cunning blandishments have alienated from me. 

Mabel. — That is as false as you are brutal. If he is your son I did not know 
it, and he deceived me. 

Steele. — That's very likely. 

Mabel {facing him). — If you mean by that to foully sully with cowardly 
inuendo my good name, you shall dearly answer for it. 

Snig. {aside) . —Oh, how I'll make you pay for this ! 

Steel K . — I did not say as much . 

MabI'L. — Yoii had better not. Why, man, I do believe you are stark mad, 
that you pursue my father and myself like an infuriate tiger. What have we 
ever done to you or yours? 

Sti'.ele. — Designing womnn, have j^ou the brazen effrontery to tell me to my 
face that you do not know ? 

Mabel. — I do not. As matters stand, the lie rests with your family ; not 
mine. 

Steele. — Is it a lie, that your recreant, turncoat father— doubly cursed be he 
for it -upon the merest quibble refused me the support he owed his party ; 
cost me my seat in Congress ; destroyed my hard-earned prestige, and 
humiliated me before the whc^le country ? Is that a lie, I say? 

Mabel. — If, indeed, he did refuse to sell his birtb-right of free thought and 
action to such a gilded Esau as you are, I glory in it. 

Steele. — You'll live to weep for it. 

Mabel. — And if I do, it will be in pity for the defeated Crresus. In spite 
of all your countless wealth, how much poorer than my honest father it must 
make you feel, to know you cannot buy him. You are to be commiserated, Mr. 
Steele. 

Steele ■ — Heperve both your wailings and heroics for him. He will need 
them ; for I have sworn to crush him, and I will. 

Mabel -Will von, you golden tyrant? Perhaps you can, and make of him a 
martyr to that sc ired principle of independence, for which his forefathers both 
fought and died, and which to everj^ true American is dearer far than 'life. Do 
to him all that power and hatred can devise, and he shall yet, by his example, 
grandly stmd your master. You voice in his most wanton persecution the 
fiat of your class- that of a heartless, soulbss moneyed aristocracy, Avhich has 
set monopoly and wholesale gambling up as its bedizened, double-visaged god ; 
before whose throne you remorselessly command millions of freemen to 
blindly bow down, in slavish compliance, and to pay the tribute of their daily 
bread. Vouching for him, and all his robber priests and hirelings, as by your 
deeds you do, take heed to this in time -that Hunger and Despair are greater 
gods than he. 

Steele. — Truly, a well-mouthed warning, for which, in the name •f Wall 
street and the favored few, I most profoundly thank you. I am also gratified 



/ 



39 

to note that as a schoolmistress, your elocutionary training has not been 

neglected. You should adorn the stage. 

Mabet..— And j'ou the scaffold; for you seek to murder under legal forms 
Seekle— By heavf ns- this is too much ! Would you make me forget you are 

a woman ? 

Mabel.— You forgot that from the first, and shame upon you for it. 

{Enter Moreland . ) 

MoRELAND. — Mabel, my child, what are you doing here? Not seekin' favors 
of such as him ? If he piles ruin on us mountrdn high, not a groan before him. 
It would be but music to his brazen ears. Seif-res])ect should bar the door of 
such a den as this agin us. The air here seems as foul ashisnatur'. Come 
away ! Come away, afore it chokes us! 

Steele. — This is no place for squeamish paupers. Go; and take with you 
this glib-tongued harridan, whose failure to entrap and compromise my son has 
made her flighty. 

MoiiELAND {seizing a chair and laising it to strike Steele. ) — Dog ! You shall not 
live to repeat that lie ! 

Mabel {interposimj) . — Father, what would you do? Leave him to God. 
"Vengeance is mine ; I will repay," saith the Lord. 

Steele. — No, it is mine, and no power shall rob me oi — {suddenly stops, stag- 
gers and falls heavily to the floor.) 

Mabel. — What is the matter with him ? Oh, this is dreadful ! 

Snig. — What I have been looking for has come at last. {Mabel goes to Steele 
and lifts his head.) 

Moreland. — Leave him with his like. Come away, Mab, this is no place for 
us. 

Mabel. — Father, that is not like you. You would not neglect a dumb beast 
at home, and I do not believe you would have me abandon a suffering fellow- 
creature here — one who is prostrate, help'e-s, and perhaps riying. He has been 
our cruel enemy, but the hand of Heaven is heavy upon him. It is not for us 
to judge him now, but to perform a Christian duty. 

Moreland. — Your mother's voice spoke them words, my Lily of the Valley. 
I'm wrong. {Removing his hat.) May God forgive him as freely as I do. 

{Filter De Pille.) 

Mabkl,- Oh, Doctor, I am so glad you have come. Something terrible has 
hajjpened to Mr. Steele. What can we do for him? (De Pille gravely examines 
Steele. ) Is he dead ? 

De PrLLE. — No. but he has received a very dangerous, if not fatal, stroke, and 
there's not a moment to lose. Paralysis, I think. I saw liis carriage standing 
outside We must get him into it and home at once, Caleb, you send a mes- 
senger, post haste, for his family physician. {De Pille, Moreland and Sniggerwell 

raise Steele. ) Gently, now ; that's it. ( 'iJiey carry him out.) 

{Exit all.) 



40 

SCENE THIRD . —Inteuioh of a Rough, Half Board, Half Canvas Saloon in a 
Westeun Railiioad Construction Camp. 

(Enter Biiov;^, Jones, Smith and Robinson.) 

Brown. — I am drier th;in a YaiiiK)uth bloater stuffed with a prohibition ser- 
mon. Whose got enough of the silver buzzard's tail feathers to biiy a round of 
Bourbon County's enlivening moisture? 

Jones. — The Wiconsin innocent got my last chip. 

Smith. — Dit— to. 

Robinson — D- o. 

JoNJS (to bartender).- Pard, is my credit good? 

Hi MixEU. — Yes, to keep. 

Robinson. — Well; don't give it away. 

Smith. — You're a star capper, you are, Mr. Hrown, to take a shark with a 
maw like a Wall street bear for a nursing sucker. 

Jones . — To make busted Jonahs of us all . 

Brown. — How? 

JoNi'S. — By swallowing us Avhole; that's all. 

R-^BiNsoN. — Boys, there's no use of chinning over a past ante; so, instead of 
squealing I'ke a coppered boodler, let's f-ing like true game sports. 

{Theij all join in singing the following song.) 

> 
THE STRANGER FROM OSHKOSH. 

I. 

We are the worst victimized cusses in town, 

solus. sohis. solus. solus. 

Robinson, Smith, Jones, and Brown ; 
On account of draw-poker ; a sociable game ; 
Then listen oh list ! while we sadly explain 
How the jack-pot we lost, and a sucker he done 

solus, solus, solus. solus. 

Up Brown, Jones, Smith, and Robinson. 
solus. solu'i. .solus. solus. 

Mr. Robinson, Smith, Jones, and Brown, 
Who now on their uppers are walking the town. 

n. 

Jones and Brown. Smllh. 

We had aces up, and I ma le a queen straight ; 

Eohinsou, solus. 
I called for a card to four beautiful eights ; 
While a stranger from Oshkosh, whom to entertain, 
We'd invited to join in a nice (juiet game ; 
He helped to the pictures and dealt himself two, 
Then blandly said : " Gentlemen, what do you do ?" 
What the gentlemen did then will later appear, 
And why they're all busted and howling out here. 



I 



41 



III. 

Brown, solus. Jones, solus. 

I shoved up a red stack, I put up a blue, 

Smith, solus. Rohinson, solus. 

I raised it a hundred, I boosted it two ; 
" I never was in such a steep game before, 
But I'll see you, and go you just five hundred more," 
Said the man from Oshkosh, gazing mildly upon 

io/ws. solus, solus. solus. 

Mr. Brown, Jones, Smith, and Robinson, 
solus. solus, solus. solus. 

And Robinson, Smith, Jones, and Brown. 

Robinso7i, solus. 
We sized up our boodle, and I called him down . 

IV. 

Said the man from Oshkosh, " To a bobtail I drew, 
And took in two more clubs ;" says I " it won't do — 
I have four of a kiud." Well, they aiut worth a cuss," 
Said the man from Oshkosh, "for I've got a straight flush"- 
And the Ace, King, Queen, Jack, Ten— he showed down, 

solus. sob'S. solus. solus. 

To Robinson, Smith, Jones and Brown, 

sohis. solus, solus. sohis. 

And Brown, Jones, Smith and Robinson, 
We were forced to acknowledge that kind of hand won. 

{Enter Fkank.) 



Robinson, solus. Smith, solus. Jones, sohis. 
Now I am flat broke . So am I . And me, too — 

Brown, solus. 
While I am worst bent than a capital U ; 

And the stranger from Oshkosh raked in our whole pile, « 
With a sort of self-satisfied, innocent smile. 
Saying : " Gentlemen, these things will sometimes occur, 
In the nice little, sociable game of Poker — 
By-by, Mr. Robinson, Smith, Jones and Brown — 
I will look you all up the next time I'm in town. 

Frank. — I could exchange places with even the lowest of those outcasts, if it 
would bring me a little of their devil-may-care philosophy. I have tramped and 
toiled u^itil every muscle aches and quivers, but can earn neither rest, nor for- 
getfulness. I must sleep, even if I have to drown memory in the fool's lethe. 
— (To IJi Mixer.)— Gi\e me a drink. 

Brown, Jones, Smith and Robinson. — Ahem ! 

Mixer . —What shall it be, sir ? 

Frank.— Anything ; so that it's strong. 



4-2 

Robinson.— Evidently no weak sister of the Ladies T. U. 

Brown — You'd better not monkey with him. He's loaded. 

Robinson. — If be ain't be soon will be, if be takes mnny charges like the one 
he lias just rammed home. 

Jones. — If we can't irrigate the body let us trj' to cultivate the mind. Here 
is a paper a new mis.sionar}' to Ibis heathen laud gave me, with bis blessing, this 
morning . 

Smith. —Spoilt the contents. Give us the jjersonals first; never mind the 
markets, lailroad gr;ibs, nude art and politics. We ain't got no use for them. 

JoNi'.s . — Where are the personals ? 

Smith. — Ought to be on first page ; left hand column. 

Jones. — Here they are. Attention, convict fathers ! {Rends.) 

"Belle Telephone 1 as s 'metbing of inter st to whisper to the distingue gentle- 
man with the ear-trumpet ; who danced with the cool lady in decolette 
bracelets, at Miss Fig-Leaf's Rule Britannia Brie a-brac Ball. 



I 



Wanted —A first-class burglar, as night watchman in a conservative Broad- 
way Bank. Must bring Sunday-school certificate. Address Cashier, Montreal. 

The young lady with the last English attitude and pug pup, who looked so 
sympathetically at the American lord trying to swallow a saw-log cane in a 
hansom, opposite the Brunswick yesterday, will evt-rlastingly oblige, you know, 
by sending her address to Monkey, this office. 



Frank. — I know all and regret my error. Forgive and return. Elk Creek. 



The journals of my jaws will run red-hot if I try to read any more without 
lubricating them . {Bokh up the ]Kip€r.) 

Fbank. — Why, that niirst be from Mabel, and intended for me. {Comes for- 
ward and addresses Jones.) My friend, if you have no further u«e for that 
paper, I would like to buy it. I will give you a dollar for it 

Jones. — 'Taint enough, stranger. Circulating libraries is mighty expensive 
luxuries in the fiir West. 

Frank. — What do you want for it? Name your price, man. 

Jones. Well, stranger, as I'm naturally of an obliging disposition, we'll say 
five dollars. It's dirt cheap at that. 

Frank. — There's your mone}'^. 

JoNLS — And there's the documents. I onlj' \vish I bad an afiidavit circula- 
tion of 200 OOO copies at the same figure. Have a drink, pard? 

Frank {tjazhuj at the paper . ) —No, thank you, just bad one. 

Jones. — All right. Over the Rockies, as we say out here. {W<dks up to the 
bar. ) Is my credit good now ? 

Mixer — Certainly . 

Jones. — Well, sell it. {Rril B., J., S , and R., laitghing.) 

Fkank (seated.)- There can l)e no mistake about it, it is from her, God bless 
her! {Starts iip.) 1 will return at once— but, no. (Sits, down dejectedly.) I 
have vowed never to look upon either of them again. Not that I can blame her 
much. She bad cause to think me a coward and to treat me as one. She maj' 
be impulsive, but a brave man is compelled to respect her for it in this instance, 
and I am a thousand times more to blame than she, for I deceived her. For the 



43 

first time in my life I acted a falsehood, and made the too common mistake of 
thinking that a good purpose could be best served by a pettj' fraud. It has 
cost me dearly enough, htaven knows, but, like many a lesson in life, it comes 
too late. As for my father, he beat me like a skulking hound in her presence. 
The bare thought of it is enough to drive me mad. He cannot love me. No ! he 
must hate me, or he never cotild have done it J cannot go back to him, but I 
may at least write to her. Let me read her precious message once mora. 
{Looks (d the newspaper and springs to his feel.) What's this ? (Reads.) " Hon . 
Hardy Steele stricken with paralysis — a sudden and serious shock— the great 
capitalist's condition critical The Street excited and stocks depressed. " My 
poor father suffering, perhaps dying, if not already dead, with bis only child 
far away, and none but hireling hands to smooth his lonely pillow, or to strew 
flowers upon his grave. What has a son to do with pride and anger in such an 
hour ? Down ! down, rebellious devils and let me fly to him ! Kind heaven, 
spare, oh spare him. and grant that I may not be too late to comfort him ! 

{EuL) 



SCENE FOURTH.— The Family Room in Moreland's House. 

(Enter Snide Walker, dressed in an old sailor suit and very drunk.) 

Walker. — There's a heavy dead swell on, and I'm getting dreadfully sea-sick. 
Sliver my skylights, how things do roll and pitch! (Jhnis wjainsi a table, to 
lohich he dings.) Hold hard, my ancient mariner ! Starboard your larboard, or 
there'll be a disastrous collision . 

(Enter Mollie, icith tin pail . ) * 

MoLiiiE . - Phew ! how it smells of whiskey. (Sees Walker.) Who are you? 
and what do you want here ? 

Walker. — Ship ahoy! 

Mollie.— Goodness me ! It's some drunken brute of a sailor ! What shall 
I do? 

Walker. — Box your compass and steer nor' by sou', my tidy Voluntefr. 

Mollie. -I'd like to box your ears, you salt water Thistle. 

Walker. — Prepare to receive boarders. 

Mollte. — If I only had a club, I'd soon show j^ou what kind of board you'd 
get here . 

Walker.- AH hands on deck for a royal salute. (Makes a grab at Mollie, who 
hits him. viil.h the pail and screams. Enter De Pille, who grapples viith liini <n)d they 
struggle. Mollie pt/.s the pail over Walker's head, and pnllihg on the hale, throws 
him. down. Die Pille on top of ti.im. ) 

Walker. Quarter! Quarter! Haul down the skull and ci'oss-bones. I 
surrender . 

De Pille (getting uj)).— Yon rum-ballasted marine tramp, see what you have 
done— broken my glasses and disarranged my tie . I have a great mind to scuttle 
you with a couple of pistol balls. 

(Enter Zeke.) 

Zeke. — What's the row . Who's this son of a sea cook ? 
Wai,ker (sitting Uj>). — Am I in the creek? 



^ 



44 

Zeke. — No, you ain't; and you don't look as if you'd been as near frf sh 
water as that since the cold summer. 

Walker. — What whiskey— I mean port is this ? What's name of landing ? 

Zi£KE.— Elk Creek. 

Walker. — Hooray for Cap'n Kidd ! That's the place I'm steering for. Who 
runs this light-house ? 

ZitKE.— This ain't no light-house, you bloated porpoise ; it's a farm house. 

Walker. — Is it ? Where's the cider barrel ? 

De Pille. - Once for all. fellow, what do you want here ? 

ZEKE.--If you've any special business with We, Us and Co. you'd better 
spring it quick. 

Walker —Spring? One swallow don't make a spring, and a spring don't 
make the kind of swallow I want either. I'm loaded 

Zeke. -I should say so. 

Walker. — With important information for Able— t-ible — sable — cable— fable 
— stable — no, for Mable. More -more - more - water. No, I don't mean water, 
and I never want any more. More -more —more land. Mabel Moreland; 
that's the watch- word. 

{Enter Mabkl.) 

Mabel. — Who is this vagabond, and what does he want? 

MoLLit;. — As near as we can make out from his hiccoughing drivel, he wants 
to see you. 

M.\BEL. — Me? What can he want with me? I am Miss Moreland. Have 
you afiylhing to say to me ? 

W.ii keu (fiiagfjering to his feet and staruig at Mabel. ) What are the wild waves 
saying, bister; roaring like a fat woman's snore? Are you she? 

Mabel. — As I have already told you, I am Miss Moreland. 

Walker. — Well, he ain't coming. He's water-logged and can't get here. 

M.ABEL. — Who are you talking about? 

Walker, — Hanky, pany, wanky, Franky. Do you know Franky? 

Mabel . — Franky ? Franky ? 

De Pjlle. —Perhaps he means Frank Steele. 

Walkir. — Correct! Go to the head. That's where the last drink I took 
went. 

Mabel — What do you mean ? That Frank Steele is not coming here ? 

Walker . — Just so . 

Mabel. — Why not ? 

AV'ALKEu (sings.) — 'On a reef of bright coral shall be his lone bed. And 
the clams of the < cean swim over his head. For O ! my love has gone, he has 
left me, I know." 

M.^BEL. —Besotted idiot ; can you and will you exphiin yourself? 

Walkeu. — No occasion for reading the riot act ; there's no mutiny aboard 
this ship. 

Mabel. —Answer n e, I say ! Answer me ! 

Walker {sUuiled and sohtved a little. ) — He requested me to jj resent his com- 
pliments and tell you that he was drowned. 

Mabel —Frank Steele drowned? 

Walker. In the most successful and satisfactory manner. Ship foundered 
oft' Cape Clear . All hands lost, except me and the cook, and another barrel of 



I 



45 

benzine. He asked me if I got ashore before I got too full to tell you, 
I'm glad I did. 

{Enter Ball.) 

Mabel. — Drowned! My darling drowned! You do not, you cannot 
mean it? 

Walker. — Father, I cannot tell a lie, and Cub Sniggerwell knows it. 

Mabel. —And 1 drove him to his death ! Miserable creature of fatal impulse 
that I am. (WikUy, to MolUe, who comes to her.) Do not touch me I 1 am a 
murderess ! I have killed my brave, beautiful love and destroyed myself 

Mollie. — Hush, Mabel, darling. Don't take on so. There may be some 
mistake . Come with me, love ; come with me. {Exit M.abel and Mollie. ) 

(Ball reads the following f able :) 

"The Mourning Mule 

Herodotus of Halicarnassus had a span of educated mules, named respect- 
ively Jane and Maria, whose bosoms were animated by mutual sentiments of 
the most tender affection. One evening when Jane was suffering from the ear- 
ache, the son of a slave crept up slyly and jabbed her in the stifle with a Canada 
thistle. Not perceiving the malicious urchin, and erroneously assuming that 
her mate had nipped her, she impulsively kicked Maria into the middle of the 
reign of Peter the Great, and, as mules and fools never die, she has been 
mourning, as one without hope, ever since. 

Jifora/.— Don't go off half-cocked." 

Zeee {blubbering).— By Jane you mean, Mab, and she deserves it, too. What 
right had she to go and kick poor Mr. Frank clean into the sweet bye-and-bye 
without lookin', before she struck out with both hind feet to onct? 

(Exit Walker with Ball's book.) 

De Pille . — Poor fellow ! I am afraid he's gone . 

BmjJj {discovering the loss of his book.) Gone! {Hushes wildly after Walker.) 
Stop him ! Sink him ! Blow him up ! Pirates ! Pirates ! 

CURTAIN. 



46 



ACT V. 

SCENE FIRST.— Same Location as Act II, Sce^je II. 

{Enter Caleb Sniggerwell.) 

Snig. — So the youDg rat, despite his scored hide, is returning to the old 
one, upon the wings of love ; which means the limited express, if he has money 
enough. It's luckj' that I intercepted the telegram announcing his coming. 
It may gain me a little time in which to play my hand out, and every hour is 
worth a trick to me now. If 1 hey get together they may gnaw through the 
meshes of my net before I can draw it. I am afraid, too, that stroke has 
weakened the old one's iron will . If the devil loves his owu, wlij^ did it not send 
my dear master to him ? I must see Mabel, at once ; fully convince her of 
Frank's death, and make a last effort to move her through her father's mis- 
fortunes. (£Ii;ii Sniggerwell. ) 

(Enter Mabkl.) 

Mabel. -Bitter occnsion fis I have to avoid this fatal place, I am irresistibly 
attracted to it, and here, at least, my tears may flow, unnoticed and unchecked, 
for him, my blind impulsiveness and cruel words, sent hence, in all his 
youthful excellence and love, to swift, awful death and burial in the yawning 
deep. If he were only sleeping here, in our last trysting place, and where we 
parted, n(-ver, alas, to meet again, I might find some little consolation in 
making daily pilgrimnge to his grave, to lay the tribute to his memory of sweet 
flowers upon it, and to offer np my prayers for his and Heaven's forgiveness. 
Bat even this small comfort is denied me. though not for long, for, oh, Frank, 
my noble, wronged, lost darling, mj' heart is breaking ! 

(Elder Sniggerwell and Frank— /.'je former sees the latter, without being 
seen, awl hastily withdraws .) 

Frank. — Mabel, my own forgiving angel ! 

Mabpl. — Has the sea given up its dead, or has my misery driven me insane ? 
No ! no ! It is, it is my — [Faints in Frank's arms. ) 

Frank. — Mabel, it is indeed your penitent, adoring truant. She does not hear 
me ! Wretch that I am, my rashness has killed her ! But no, she breathes, she 
revives ! 

M\b¥.Ij (s(riigg,i7ig faintly )— ^Pray, release me. 

Frank.— Dearest, you are ill and frightened, let me support yon. 

Mabel, (rallying.)— Mr. Hardy I beg your pardon, I should say Mr. Steele — 
if you are a gentleman, let me go. 

Frank (releasing her. ) — ^Mabel, what does this mean ? Are you not glad to see 
me ? 

Mabel. — So glad, that I thank God, upon my knees, for your safe return . 

Frank. — Why then do you repulse me? 

Mabkl. — You are too harsh with me, for, indeed I am overjoyed to meet you 
— as a friend 

Frank. — No more than that? 



^ 



K 



47 

Mabel.— No moi'e. Mr, Steele I did you, unwittingly, a great injustice, for 
which I implore yonr jiardon. Believe me, I have both repented and suifered 
for it, and when I heard that yoti were drowned — 

Frank.— Drowned ! Who told j'on that? 

Mabel. — A drunken sailor, who said he was your shipmate, brought us the 
news. 

Frank. — There is ::onie mystery here. What could the motive be for coin- 
ing such a heartless lie ? 

Mabel. — I am sure I cannot imagine. He seamed too much intoxicated to be 
capable of deception, and he also spoke of knowing your father's clerk. 

Fr.ank. — He did r Then there is some plot afoot, and if Cub Sniggerwell has 
a hand in it, let him beware of me. But, dearest Mabel, why do you chill my 
hopes with such cold foriuality, when it is at your bidding that 1 am here ? 

Mabel. — At my bidding? 

Frank. — Most certainly. Yen sent for me. 

Mabel.— Never, Mr. Steele. 

Frank.— You did not? What, then, is the meaning of this advertisement? 
(Hands her the neios j taper .) 

Mabel (7'ca(/s). — Upon my honor, sir, I never wrote it, never paw it before, 
and know absolutely nothing about it. 

Frank. — I am utterly bewildered. What does all this juggling mean? 

Mabel. — I accidentally discovered, in a manner I do not care to pain j^ou by 
explaining, who you were and how y'>u had misled me. 

Fkank. — It is true, I did ; but, my darling, believe me, on vay soul, it was 
from tbe purest and b( st of motives. I loved j'ou from the first time I saw 3'ou . 
The anticipation of great wealth, nnd the selfish arts practised upon me by 
others, made me moibidly suspicious, and I resorted to what I meant should be 
but an innocent device for both our happiness, to try and win you without the 
glittering aid of coveted gold. Forgive a little sin, which only proves how 
devotedly I love you. 

^ Mabel.— I believe you, Mr. Steele, and respect both your motive and your 
candor. Let that suffice . 

Frank. —Why will you thus put both my love and pride to further torture ? 

Mabel.— You wrong me deepl5^ I would give my worthless life to make 
yours happy . 

FiJANK. — Why then do you refuse me your sweet self? Do you not love me ? 

Mabel.— Alas, yes! 

Frank. — And will not marry me ? 

Mabkl. — I cannot. Oh! sir, if you love me, be generous; have compassion 
on my weakness and leave me . 

Frank. — Mabel, your conduct is inexplicable. Are j^ou trifling with me? 

Mabel. — Do not reproach me. I cannot bear it. As yon love me, be patient 
and hear me. I have made a most humiliating and unmaidenly sacrifice to 
truth in uselesslj'^ acknowledging that I love you. Does that look like trifling? 
Tlure are two insurmountable barriers to onr union: First, your wealth. I 
would rather die than be looked upon as a fortune hunter; and, last of all, by 
you. 

Frank. — I am far poorer than you; literallj' a self-discarded beggar. But if 
ten times my father's fortune should fall to me, I swear to refuse it all, if j^ou 
will have me. 



r 



48 

Mabel. — The relations existing between our families forbid it. It would be 
a hideous and imnatural association; full of hatred and misery to all. 

Frank.— But, Mabel, I can't see why it should be. 

Mabel.- You do not l<now all. 

Fbank.— I know enough to know that it is nobody's business except our own. 
We are to marry each other; not a whole family apiece. 

M^BEL. — If for no other reason than this I must refuse you, an;l, in so 
doing, sacrifice all my own happiuess; tbat were I to marry you without his 
consect, it would liill my dear old father. 

Frank. — But he lik^s me, nnd I am sure will give it. 

M.ABEL. — Never. Do not deceive yourself, and unutterablj^ dear as you are 
to me, I will never be your wife without both his free consent and tbat of your 
father with it . 

Frank. - Tben, there is no hope. Farewell. 

Mabel {rusJdng to him and impitlsivey embracing him) .' Oh, my darling! 
Pity and forgive me, and may God keep and comfort you. Farewell, forever! 

( Exit Mabel and Frank . ) 

{En'er Smggervvell. ) 

Snig. — Lost, lost to me forever! But there is oue thing still left to me — 
revenge ! sweeter, they say, than love itself. I must get home, for I have work 
to do. {Exii Sniggerwell. ) 



ISCENE SECOND.— A Room in Haedy Steele's House. 

(^Stiele siltiiKj in an easy chair, at table • an open letter in Ids hand. ) 

Si'KELE. — Those who say that Christianity is but an ideal dream, are fools. 
Tbe prayers m}^ mother taught my lips to syllable, as I knelt, iu child-like 
innocence, beside her knee, were not empty mummeries, for ribald wits to jeer 
at ; but solemn truths, for wise men to revere. How they have come b^ck to 
me, all fragrant with the incense of her good-night kisses, in the long hours 
that I have been chained here For t'le tir.st time since she ried I have had 
time to think of something else besides money getting. I did not loose all my 
senses when I fell, and in my feverish dreams have se^n, a thousand times, that 
girl's fair face, like a ministering a' gel's, with a balo round it, bending, in pity, 
over me, while she tenderly supported the head whose tongue had scarcely 
ceased to curse and revile her. My enemy, that rough old farmer, why even 
he, too, forgave, and prayed for me. Can the apostles of the gods of chance 
and human wisdom perform such a miracle sis that ? Can all the wealth on the 
earth's surface, or heaped within its mines, wield such a power, and bend our 
stubborn natures thus to its will ? Shall I, who have ever boasted of paying 
all my debts promptly, and in kind, be outdone here in full acknowledgment? 
{Enter Si>noGv.RW EJ^L. steal hi ly.) Not so ! There is, thank God, yet time, and I 
will make a better use of it than I have done for many days— and Frank, my 
boy Frank, shall have a hand in the good work. This letter from him tells me 
he is here, and would have come straight to me, but for fear his presence might 
not be welcome, and would injuriously excite me. I have sent for tbe 3'oung 
rascal, and little does he anticiftate the sort of reception he will meet with. 



49 

Snig. {aside.) — I'll take a hand in that. Now to wipe out all scores with his 
heart's blood aud at a single blow, aud then escape . {Creeps vp heldnd Stede with 
a dirk, raises his nnn to strike, hesitutis and draws Lack.) No, not that way ; it is 
too risky. Another fit would kill him. I will drive him frenzied into it. {Goes 
to the door and noisdy o]<ens and shut-t it.) 

Steele.— Who's there ? Is that you, Cub ? 

Snig. — No, it is Mr. Caleb Sniggerwell, gentleman and capitalibt. you palsied 
old dotard. 

Sti.ele. — Are you addressing me? 

Snig. — Yes, you withered, soulless despot, and as my time is short, you'll 
keep your mouth shut 'till I finish, or I'll find a way to close it. 

Steele. — The blackguard is either drunk or crazy. 

Snig — Yes, drunk with endless injuries aud insults, and crazy for revenge. 
Don't dare to interrupt me further, or I'll throttle you. 

Steele. — Pray go on, sir ; you see I am all attention. 

Snig. -Look you, you gilded slave driver! for over thirty years I've worn 
your collar and been your foot-stool. More than a generation, and in all that 
time have you ever given me one kind word, or even look? Not one. You 
called me a cub and used me like one. Wheu you wanted me to fetch and carry 
and do your dirtiest work you whistled for me ; and when you did not, drove me 
away with kicks and curses. You paid me but a beggarly pittance for all the im- 
portant service I rendered you I never loved but one person, and I had to 
stand dumbly and helplessly by and hear you use language to her, for which I 
would have given my right hand to have slain you on the spot. But I swore 
you should pay for it, and you shall . I disliked all the rest of my kind, except 
you, and I hated you. Oh, how I hated and do hate you, you moneyed Moloch ! 
Does it surprise you that I fawned upon you, licked the hand that smote me, 
and played the patient cur to you ? 

Steele. — Not in the least. 

Snig. — You lie ! {Motio)dn<j as if to strike.) Shut up, I say ! It does, for you 
do not know my reasons for it. While you made a slave of me I made a tool of 
you . I used the opportunities my position gave me to learn and to speculate, 
and I am rich . 

Steele.— I knew that long ago. 

Snig. — Did you? And I used your money whenever I required it. 

Steele. — I knew that, too. 

Snig. - I don't believe it. 

Steele.— Speak a little louder, please. I do not exactly catch what you say, 

Snig.— The old Wall stretrt fox would like to have me give tongue, so that 
some one outside may hear me. I'm too smart a pupil to be caught in such a 
clumsy trap as that ; though were I to howl at you no one would hear me. All 
the servants are at a ball, by my kind permission. There's not a soul in the 
house except ourselves, aud, mv dear master, you are in my power. 

Steele. — lam not in the least afraid of you. Cub. You are a liar and a 
sneak, and all liars and sneaks are cowards. You would like to murder me ; I 
see that plainly enough in your eye, but you utterly lack the pluck to do it 
openly ; so you are trying to get me to help you. I understand your game as 
thoroughly as I do you, and my dear Mr. Caleb Sniggerwell, gentleman and 
capitalist. I am not, just yet, quite prepared to commit suicide, even in your 
interests, I assure you. 



50 

Snig. — Damn you ; do 3^011 know that I have nearly a million dollars' worth 
of your property in my possession, and in such shape that I can get safely away 
with it ? 

Stkei>e — I do not ; and T do not believe it ; though if you have, I don't see 
how I can help myself, just at present. 

Snig. — What's come over you? Curse me if I believe the steam from a 
volcano would thaw you, or all its lava set you on lire. 

Steel,e.- Thci'e was a time when even a miserable peunj^-dip like you could 
do it ; Vnit thnt's past. 

Snig. - Is it? AVe'll see, you anchored iceberg ! for before I leave you I mean 
to melt you with a roaring bonfire of every bond, deed and valuable paper you 
have here. There's a precious lot of them, and I know where they all are. 
(Opens a small safe and to'^ses out a lot of papers, and next goes to rummaging in the 
drawers of a dn sslng case . ) 

Steele.— While you are preparing to burn j'our fingers, oblige me by not 
breaking any of the china ware. There are some valuable old pieces, which it 
might be difficult to replace. 

Snig. {^masking a vase on tlie floor). — I'll leave you in universal ruin. 
(Returns to his search of the dressing case drawn's, and while tJius engaged, Steele 
manages to open a drawer in the table and secures a pistol, which he tries to aim 
st"a lily at Snfggerwell by rt sling it across his left arm. Sniggerwkll discovers the 
attempt by the reflection in the dressing-case glass, and rushing upon STEEiiE, 
lorenches the weapon from, him.) You would, would you? I know from 
experience, that in dealing with you one must have eyes in the back of his head. 
(J'oixling pistol at hhn . Enter Fua'^k.) I'll fix you so that ,you won't tell any 
tales for some time after I leave you. 

FiANK {springing upon Sniggeuwell ) — Yon infernal assassin! (^A desperate 
sti'ugg'efor the possession of the pistol ensues. ) 

Snig.— Now, I'll lill both of you. {The pistol arcldentaUy explodes, and 
Sniggeuwell /aW.s, the pistol drops, Frank picks it up and covers Sniggerwell to?7/i 
it, who staggers to his feet chdching his left ar-m^) 

Frank. — Are you hurt, father? 

Steele. -No, my brave boy. Did you kill the villain? 

Frank. — No, accident only winged him. 

Steele. — Don't let him escape. {Falls back in his chair.) 



SCENE THIRD —Lawn in Front of Mont land's House. 

{Enter Mrs. De Pille, /o/ZowcZ by Zeke, swinging a very small garter snake.) 

Mrs. De Fille (.screams). — Take that venomous anaconda away, or I shall 
faint . 

{Enter Ball.) 

Zeke. — Don't get the jim-jams, ma'm ; it's nothin' but a baby garter snake, 
and couldn't get away with a June bug. But if its room is more pleasinter 
than its company, here goes— (/Aroioi' it away) — as the old woman said when 
she fell off the Brooklyn Bridge. 



i 



J 



51 

(Ball reads the followinfj fable:) 

"The Ass and the Eabbit, 

Once upon a time an ass and a rabbit got into an angry dispute as to which 
of the two had the longest enrs, and finally ngreed to leave it to the boa- 
constrictor. Next morning 1 he boa constrictor's youngest son said to his pa: 
' Pa, which hnd the longest ears, the ass or the rabbit?' ' Well, mj son,' replied 
the boa constrictor, 'I think the ass's ears were a little the longest— to digest.' 

Moral. — Don't see snakes." 

Mrs. Df, Pille. - I do not see what relevance that preposterous deduction 
has to this occasion. 

Zeke.- If you'd had an eye-opener this mornin', ma'am, j'ou probablj' would. 

Mrs. De Pille. — I had both eyes opi ned this morning young man, and they 
are now open, lookiug very anxiously for Doct'U' De Pille. {Aside. ) I like to 
call him Doctor, it sounds so imj)ressively professional. 

Zeke. — I'll find him for you in two jerks of a lamb's tail. {Ex'd Zf.ke.) 

Mrs. De Pille.— Can it be j)0ssible that the inhabitants of these primitive 
regions reckon time by jerks, in that singular manner? 

{Enter De Pille, widle Mollie appears at the door and stands listening.) 

De Pille. — Well, my enchanting mamma, wdiat news? 

Mrs. De Pilie. — It is all right, Doctor. Everything has been arranged bj' 
my lawyer So, when that horrid auctioneer goes to knocking the poor cows 
and things do"wn with his hammer, you just stop him. 

MoLLiE {aside). — What a nature's nobleman he is. I dtuld hug him almost to 
d eath . 

De Pille. - Mamma, were the use of slang permissable in your refined pres- 
ence, I would raj^turousl}' exclaim: "You are a daisj^ !" As it is, I will content 
myself with simply remarking that you are the most angelic old lady in this 
"fleeting show\" 

Mrs. De Pille.— Old, sir? 

De Pille.— -Oh, not too old, you know. Just old enough. {Kissing her ) So 
don't spoil what we mean to make such a happj^ daj% by a single frown, but run 
into the house and see Mabel, and keep our secret, mind. 

Mrs . De Pjlle . — I will . {Exit Mrs . De Pille . ) 

De Pille. — If any woman can do that, I shall not entirely despair of finding 
a city belle that can keep house. {Enter Mollie.) Mollie, you are looking re- 
markably well this morning. 

Mollie.— I m afraid it's bad luck to have a doctor tell me so. 

De Pille. — Let me look at you. {T^eels Iter pulse.) Stick out your tongue 
I was mistaken in my first superficial examination . Another proof that street 
opinions are not to be trusted. Your case is a serious one. 

Mollie. — Good gracious ! What's the matter with me ? 

De Pille. — Your heart is affected. I felt it flu;ter when I took hold of your 
hand. 

Mollie. — You don't say so? What shall I take? 

De Pille. — Um ! ah ! I would prescribe an immediate change of name. 

Mollie. — What in the name of all King Solomons wives are j^ou talking 
about ? 



i 



52 

De PiLLE. — Mollie, for all the we.ilth that once through Tara's halls, I woukl 
not tay aiight to M'ound your ancestral pride ; but, to put it in the most diluted 
homoepathic form, Mary Ann Goggins is not a LonglVllowonian, Tenuysonian, 
Browningiferous name . Suppose you change it for mine ? I love you honestly 
and I need you much. 

Mollie {aybig).- Yon ough*, to be ashamed of yourself, doctor, to make 
sport of me on such a subject. 

Dl'- PiLLE. - My dear girl ; nothing of the sort, I assure you upon my honor. 
I could not be more serious if I was cutting off your leg. 

Moi.LiK. — You are trying to break my heart, and that is worse. 

De Pille. — On the contrary, I am trying to cure it. Accept me as your 
family physician and I will guarantee to do it. 

MoLOE. — Do you really mean for me to take you as my LusbaudV 

De PiLLE. —Precisely . Take De Pille. 

Moi-Liii. — It ought to be well shaken before taken. But if I must, I suppose 
I must, {•'^huts her eyes and opens her mouth. ) Give it to me, Doctor; but I hope 
it won't taste very nasty. (^De Pille kisses her.) My, it is sugar-coated ! Would 
another hurt me ? 

De Pille {kissinq her agabi,).- Not if you took the whole box. (Mollie stands 
ready for anoUier one.) But, I would not prescribe the whole drug store at tlis 
stage of the disease. Well, that's settled, and I flatter myself in a strictly pro- 
fessional manner. 

Mollie. — But what will your mother say ? I never thought of that. 

Dii. Pille . — " Bless you, my children." I will prescribe for her, too. 

(Enter Sheriff Shoetwoek ) 

Shoktwork. -How-de-do ! Is Mr. Moreland about? Must get to business at 
once. Tw^enty levies and tbree more sales on hand to-day. Time flies and 
justice cries. {Enter Moueland. ) How are you, Mortland? Hope you're well. 
Sorry my visit isn't of a pleasanter nature: but can't be helped, you know. The 
Court says so, and we must go. 

MoEELAND.— I'm a law abidin' man and can't blame you, Mr. Sheriff. Do 
your whole duty, without fear or favor. 

{Enter M.\bel, Mes. De Pille and Zeke.) 

SuouTwoEK {mounting a chair). —By virtue of — {enttr Steele, leaning on his son's 
rwi/)— divers and sundry executions — 

Steele.— Hold, Mr. Sheriff! 

Moi;elani>. — Is it not enough that yuu have beggared me and mine, without 
your coiuin' at such a time to gloat over the ruin and misn-y you have called 
down upon these innocent children and my gray hairs ? 

Feank . - Mr . Morelanl - 

Steele.— My son, let me speak first You are altogether wrong, Moreland. 
I i.m here for no such purpose, but to ask you to shake hands and be my friend 
again ; and, fuithermore, to restore all to you upon one condition. 

MoEioLANi). - AVhat condition can you name that I would subscribe to ? 

SrEELK. - A very simple, easy and most honorable one- that you bestow^ your 
daughter's hand upon my son, and I wish for her sake, he was an emperor, for 
she deserves one. 



53 

MoBELAND. — Mr. Steele — 
Mabel. — Father ! 

MoiiEiiAND {hesilates). — Do you love him, my child? 
Mabel. - With all my heart, father . 

McEELANu. — Then go to him, for while I won't be out-fought, neit'er will I 
be out-forgiven by any man. Take her, my lad, and use her well and gentlj^ 
for she's a pure diamond, without a flaw, and w'orthy to be set and cherished 
for ever in a irue man's heart. 

Fbank.— I have no words in which to thank you, tir; but I will ever strive to 
be as good to her as you have been, and no oue could do more than that. 
Zeke.— Hooray ! double or quits, as the flail said to the nigger's head. 
Steele.— And, my dear daughter, for such I shall henceforth insist upon 
calling you, you need have no fear of marrying a rich man ; for this scape-grace 
of mine has not a penny, nor shall he have- that is, until you give it to him on 
your wedding day . 

De Pille. — Mamma, it only remains for you to make two other young, 
lovely and deserving creatures happy . 

Mes. De Pille. — Who are they, and where are they, pray? 
De Pille {kneeling with Mollie . ) - - Here at your aristocratic little feet, dear 
mamma. 
Mollie. — Forgive me, madam, for I do love him so. 

Mrs. De Pille. — Shades of the Terra Cottas ! Where are my smelling salts? 
MoRELAND . — Mrs . Dc Pille, no man, nor woman, need be ashamed of her. 
Steele. — Madam, let me, too, intercede for them. 
Mabel. - Dear Mrs. De Pille, complete my happiness 
Zeke. — And me too, Piatt. 

Mrs. De Pille.— It is hard to teach an old Lidy new dances, but I can't resist 
your united pleadings, and I am not sure that some good, healthy, solid stone 
china will not be useful in the Terra Cotta family— (io Mollie)— s,o kiss me, my 
child, but for gracious sake don't muss my bang. 

Zeke. — As our preacher said last Sunday: "Wed lin's seldom used to happen 
very often in the olden times ; but they happen every day now-a-days— by 
spells." But, Mr. Frank, where's Cub Sniggerwell? He ought to ornament 
this here orspicuous occasion with his presence. 

Frank. — At present he is ornamenting the jail ; charged with robbery and 
attempted murder, and, later on, will, like Othello, do the State some service. 
1 11 tell you all about it, by and by. 

Zeke.- I'm sorry it is not convenient for him to show up, as I have found 
out something worth knowing that I'd like to tell him . 
Fbank. — What is that, my soon to be sagacious brother-in-law ? 
Zeke.— That if you can't churn with a camel's hair brush, neither can you 
skin cream with a club . 



I 



Ks 



I 



h 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

liliililillllililiiillliiiii 

016 212 147 9 



54 



(Ball reads the followimj fable :) 

"The Policeman and the Night-Ket. 

^ Once upon a time, long before the flood, or the founding ot China, when 
there were no taxes or tariff, and all the Hall politicians enthusiastically favored 
genuine Civil Service Rtfoni-, a dissipated night-key was arrested by a wide- 
awake policeman, for singing " Where is My Boy To Night?" to the scandalized 
inmates of an Old Maids' >sylum. 'You are drunk and disorderly,' shouted 
the night-key, ' and I will report you in the morniDg ' ' You are so full that 
you'Jl have to be bailed out and I'll lock you up till you are,' replied the 
policeman. 
Moral. — When you've got enough it's time to go home." 

CURTAIN. 

"Home, Sweet Home," — By the Okchestra 



t- 



\ 



LIBRftRY OF CONGRESS 



016 212 147 9 



